


Together We Will Find A Way To Come Back

by devilswreckedchewtoy (AmberFyre)



Series: Not Enough [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Meg 2.0 - Freeform, Mild Gore, Post-Season/Series 03A AU, Ruby 1.0 - Freeform, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:40:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3392123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberFyre/pseuds/devilswreckedchewtoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean find a place to hole up and gain a little breathing room.  Now all they have to do is figure out who actually holds the contract for Dean and how to break it.  Not to mention what to do with the five Hellhounds they've acquired.  And just how far the soul bond that ties them to each other goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally started the third and final story for this series. I'm hoping to update it semi-regularly. We'll have to see how well I can keep to that decision. As always, I own nothing but the story. I hope you guys enjoy.
> 
> Currently unbeta'd so any mistakes are my own.
> 
> \---- --- ---  
> Jan. 25, 2017
> 
> I updated the chapter with some minor edits before posting chapter 2.

_I don't want to be saved,_  
_I want to go down with you_  
_Together we will find a way to come back_

Lacuna Coil : “Not Enough”- Shallow Life

 

The rest of the drive to their destination was fairly boring after their pit stop.  The highlight of the trip was a brief snarkfest when Dean spent ten minutes making ass jokes after Sam pointed out it would make more sense to go through Helena instead of Butte.  Pointing out that the city wasn’t actually pronounced the same way as ‘butt’ didn’t really seem to matter much to his brother.

It was aggravating but not nearly as much as usual.  Sam was just glad to see his brother in slightly better spirits.  However  Sam was still concerned.  They still hadn’t talked about whatever was on Dean’s mind when they’d left Bobby’s so abruptly, or the realizations they’d both made at the rest stop about Dean’s connection to the Hellhounds. Or, frankly, how they were going to solve this whole conundrum.

Sam had the distinct impression Dean would prefer not to talk about it at all. He usually didn’t and often enough Sam was willing to let his brother slide.  But whatever was going on, they needed to talk about it.  Needed to know what the hell was going on.  Or at least how far and how deeply the soul bond between them was tying Dean to him.  While he didn’t regret anything he’d done to keep Dean alive, if it cursed Dean just as deeply…

“I can hear you thinking all the way over here.”

Sam blinked and glanced over at his brother.  Dean looked like he hadn’t a care in the world.  One hand on the wheel almost negligently as he drove, eyes focused on the road in front of them, other arm propped in the open window.  Someone who didn’t know him as well as Sam did wouldn’t notice the tiny signs of stress in him: the way his eyes would narrow periodically as he briefly tracked a Hellhound as it paced the Impala down the two lane road, the tension that rode in his shoulders, or the fact that his seemingly lazy posture was deliberate.

Sam started to say Dean couldn’t actually hear him thinking, a reflex more than anything, when Dean said, “Yeah, well unfortunately I actually _can_ hear you thinking, so, just let it go for right now.”  He paused then added softly, “Please?”

It was the ‘please’ that got him. Along with the reminder that clearly now not even their thoughts were entirely their own. Sam sighed heavily and tried to think about something else.  He glanced over his shoulder at the supplies they’d picked up as they passed through Helena.  “How long you think that stuff will hold?”  They hadn’t actually had to hole up like this for a while, and it was looking more and more like this place was gonna be farther off the beaten track than most.

Dean shrugged, eyes darting off to the side for a moment, muscle tic in his jaw, before he spoke.  “Ought to be good for a week, maybe more.”  He didn’t say it, but Sam caught the thought, _If we’ve got a week._

Sam turned to stare out of the window and didn’t say anything in response to that.

Bobby might have made a fair point, that there wasn’t really a way for Dean’s deal to just be nullified.  He doubted he was just going to suddenly drop dead of a wound he’d received a year prior.  But they really needed a more certain guarantee of their continued existence other than five Hellhounds who seem to have bonded to them and Sam’s gifts.  Whatever they were.

He still wasn’t sure, exactly, what it was he’d done when the Hellhounds had arrived to cart his brother off to Hell. He hadn’t had any visions since Yellow Eyes had died. He’d tried pretty damn hard to avoid anything that drifted into psychic gift territory. He hadn’t even told Dean for almost six months about the demon blood, crawling shame in him every time he considered it whether he’d been able to do a damn thing about it or not. But when the Hellhounds had showed, his need to keep Dean from getting hurt in the face of the threat had tripped _something_ in him.  Even if they’d both resigned themselves to the fact that Dean dying would end up dragging both their souls to Hell, Sam hadn’t been able to do nothing.  It went against everything in him.

Like he’d told Dean, he’d live for him, die for him or with him.  But the Hellhounds had only come for Dean, not both of them.  And Sam had reacted to their intent.

Sam had a brief flash of Ava’s face, Jake’s. Both of them talking about how easy it was to pick up things once you opened yourself up to it. Felt something in his gut squirm uneasily.

In an effort to distract himself from treading down the dark path his thoughts were trying to head, he pulled the map out and studied it.  Wherever this place was their dad had found, it was clearly in the middle of fucking nowhere.  Which could be a very good thing or a very bad one.  Less collateral damage obviously.  But it also meant they were likely to be utterly on their own.

Curious, Sam pulled his phone out, gazed at it and frowned before huffing a sigh.  Not even the hint of a signal.

“We don’t exactly have a better plan at the moment, Sammy,” Dean said quietly.

“I know,” Sam said in resignation.  “I just… I don’t like this.”

“We’re alive, right?”  Dean’s voice was equally challenging and encouraging.  “If being far off the beaten track will give us the time to figure out how to stay that way, that’s worth something.”

“If we don’t kill each other first,” Sam muttered softly.

Dean snorted softly.  “I would think that would have happened already if it was gonna happen at all.”

Sam shrugged and looked back at the map again.  By his reckoning they should be reaching the place sometime in the next twenty minutes or so.  Which was fine as far as he was concerned.  He needed to stretch his legs something awful.  Just because he could ride for hours didn’t mean he always liked it.

They fell into silence, both of them trying not to voice the worries they were both having.  After all, what Bobby had given them were just land deeds.  There was a good chance that there could be absolutely nothing out here.  Which would really suck and they’d have to go for a plan B.

Turned out they were worried for nothing.

The deed was for 60 acres southwest of Lincoln, Montana.  A little area in the middle of fucking nowhere, the last signs of human habitation either of them had noticed not even a dot on the horizon.  Dean cursed a little, muttering encouragement to his Baby as he navigated the small track of road.

The house, when it came into view, startled them both.  Not because of the size, since it was a small affair, but mostly that it was there in the first place.  It didn’t look like much, but Sam supposed they had squatted in worse.  And technically it belonged to them so that was something.

Dean pulled the car to a stop just in front of the domicile.  It was more than a cabin, and the two of them stared at it silently, both suddenly wondering things neither wanted to say out loud.  Dean finally turned the car off and looked at Sam.

“Might as well see what we’ve gotten ourselves into,” he said, his green eyes showing more exhaustion than they had only moments before.  Sam tossed him a small tired smile of his own and climbed out of the car.

The Hellhounds, who’d been keeping up faithfully (and Sam didn’t even want to know how they managed that feat) seemed to be scouting the whole area diligently.  The lead bitch stood regarding the structure warily, looking at Sam as if to ask why they’d decided to stop there.  The bitch who seemed to have attached herself to Dean wasn’t nearly as reserved.  She trotted right up to his brother, ember red eyes gazing at him adoringly.

Dean dropped a hand to stroke her head, seeming both embarrassed and pleased to have the undivided attention.  Sam hid a smile and glanced away.

“Shut-up,” Dean muttered, tossing Sam a sour look before walking towards the front door.

“Didn’t say anything,” Sam said, lips still twitching as he fought the smile.

“Didn’t have to.”

Sam shrugged and followed his brother.

The door was locked, but easy to pick.  And what they found when they entered had them both pausing just inside the doorway and staring around in slack-jawed surprise.

For all the house had an air of abandonment, it was clear someone had taken time to furnish it.  Mostly second hand things that didn’t match much.  The main room held a couch and coffee table, there was a rickety kitchen table with a couple chairs under a window and the kitchen was beyond that.  Or what passed as a kitchen anyway.  A short hallway led to the back of the house.  None of it was much to look at and wasn’t what caused the surprise.

Around every window they could see, protective sigils had been carved and set with metal.  Some they recognized immediately, some they’d never actually seen before.  Sam glanced down under his feet then turned to look at the doorway and saw that there were sigils done the same around the whole doorway.

The lead bitch stood on the porch gazing at the door with what Sam could swear was disgust in her ember red eyes.  The one who’d adopted Dean was closer to it and looked seriously upset she couldn’t pass the threshold.

“Whole damn place has been warded,” Dean said softly as he took another few steps further in, eyes studying the sigils.

For the first time since the Hellhounds had shown up, Sam felt a little weight fall off his shoulders.  Safety, or as much as they ever got.

Dean studied the sigils for another moment then turned to Sam.  “Let’s unload, then we can figure out what to do.”

Sam didn’t respond at first.  He looked at the two Hellhounds on the porch, the sigils set around the door then turned and grabbed Dean to pull him into a fierce hug.  Dean didn’t even protest, just wrapped his arms around Sam and held on just as tightly.

Sam finally turned his brother loose and nodded.

“Yeah.  Let’s unload.”

Maybe they had a chance to figure things out after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After an almost three year break I am making an attempt to finish this series out. So here's chapter 2 and hopefully more semi-regular updates until I reach the end of this story. Unbeta'd so any mistakes are all my own.

Unloading didn’t take long. Even with the amount of supplies they’d gotten, not knowing how close or far they’d be from actual civilization, they were practiced enough to get it all done in short order. Both of them were trying not to speculate, bending to their task with single-minded focus.

The two hound bitches laid out on the porch, watching them, the lead bitch still radiating disapproval every time they passed through the door the hounds couldn’t pass through. The other three vanished for a while as they unloaded and Dean, once he realized it, tossed Sam a worried glance.

“Checking things out.” It had been short and Dean could tell Sam was still uncomfortable with the way he could sense the hounds at all. If he was honest, Dean wasn’t exactly happy about it either. For Sam or for him. It was slightly more alarming as he was slowly realizing just how much he could pick up from their self-assigned entourage. Sam was the one with the sensitivities and psychic gifts. Not Dean.

Once they’d carted everything into the house, including their own things, they explored every inch of the place, inside and out. There were practical concerns to settle. Like power and running water. Not like they couldn’t adapt if they had to, they’d done it before. But it seemed like the thing to do.

Sam spent far too much time behind the house studying a generator there and other things Dean didn’t quite care enough about to log, much less pay attention to. He left his brother to it and went to prowl the small house, checking each room carefully.

The bedroom had a queen bed with a mattress that had seen better days but didn’t suck. There was a linen closet with actual sheets and blankets and towels. The bathroom was bare bones but had a shower curtain and running water. There was a small study of sorts with an old desk and chair and a few bookshelves. All the floors would hardwood with old rugs laid out here and there. And in all of their curious pokings and proddings they kept coming back to the inescapable conclusion that none of this stuff would be here if someone hadn’t actually been living in the place at some point.

Their dad had been dead over a year, but after perusing a few things on the desk and finding some things in one of the old drawers with their dad’s unmistakable handwriting, there was really only one conclusion they could come to. Which did nothing for the sense of betrayal that had been simmering inside of Dean since Bobby had pulled out the old manila folder and handed it to them.

Dropping into the desk chair and trying to come to terms with the conflicting thoughts and feelings, his eyes finally caught on a rub slightly askew. He stared at it for a long moment before frowning and getting up to roll it back, finding a trap door in the center of a devil’s trap underneath it. Like most of the protections, the devil’s trap was laid into the floor with iron, something that couldn’t be easily broken or erased.

Whoever had set the protections had not only known what they were doing but had wanted to make sure they couldn’t be tampered with without a lot of effort. And while Dean didn’t doubt John had known a hell of a lot more than he’d bothered to share with them (like what the hell was going on with Sam and his connection to the yellow-eyed demon and why the hell Dean might have to fucking kill his baby brother) he wasn’t sure the man had known this much. He’d have had to have help. Unless someone else had done all of this and John had simply acquired it, which seemed far more likely.

Sam showed up in the doorway just as he was pulling the trap door open, eyes studying the inlaid devil’s trap for a long moment before flicking to Dean.

“Looks like there’s more to explore.” Dean tried to keep his tone light, but it was hard. He tried not to notice the sympathy in Sam’s eyes or the concern fairly wafting off of his brother. “Go get a flash light.”

Sam looked about to protest, but simply turned and vanished, returning a moment later with two flash lights and an attempt at a neutral face.

It was cooler down in the basement. “I think it’s more like a storm cellar than a basement, Dean.” Dean rolled his eyes and didn’t comment. Who the fuck cared what it was actually called. It was under the house and you got to it through a trap door. Basement worked.

The stairs ended in the center of yet another devil’s trap and running the flash light over the walls, Dean could see more bookshelves, weapons racks, storage boxes and other odds and ends. It was neat enough though held more of an air of disuse than the upper level of the house. He wandered over to one of the shelves and started inspecting things.

He swore softly as a light flicked on, turning to glare at Sam. “Dude, little warning maybe?” He glared a little longer as Sam rolled his eyes and wandered over to another shelf before turning the flash light off. The lights were just bare bulbs. Strictly utilitarian and basic but they were bright enough to show the whole room.

“It looks like one of dad’s old storage units,” Sam said slowly. “Kind of, anyway.” He was perusing the books on one shelf intently, chewing his lip absently and Dean watched him for a moment. In the middle of the sense of betrayal and bewilderment this whole place had set off in him at least he had the one thing most familiar to him. Sam, feeling his gaze glanced over at his and the light caught the shiny new gold flecks in his eyes Dean hadn’t yet had time to get used to.

“Dean?”

Dean glanced away, looked around the room once more then turned resolutely for the stairs. “Gonna get dinner.” It was too much. Too many hits and he needed to breathe before he punched something. He could feel Sam’s eyes follow him, the concern and worry back. He knew Sam wanted to talk. His brother always wanted to talk. Sometimes he was even willing to indulge him.

But even if he knew he couldn’t avoid the impending conversation forever, and even if a part of him just wanted to get it out and over with, he couldn’t _handle_ the thought of it right now. Food was infinitely easier to manage.

Sam followed him shortly, settled on the couch and watched Dean move around the small kitchen quietly for a moment before he started talking. Dean registered he was elaborating on the generator and the fact the house had power though they were still off the cell grid. Dean mostly just let his voice wash over him while he warmed up whatever first came to hand. He at least appreciated Sam wasn’t trying to push him to talk at the moment, was trying to distract by going on and on about things Dean didn’t really care about. Another familiar feel in the middle of a situation so far from familiar they didn’t even have a map for it.

He ate mechanically, watching the light fade from the windows as the sun set, finally noticed there were actual lamps so the place was cozy enough. But eventually the food was gone, full night was on them, and there was nothing left but to either start looking through the shit Bobby had sent for them or talk.

Sam was a warm presence next to him, trying not to push as much as Dean could feel he wanted to. He looked around the room slowly before finally letting his eyes rest on his brother, who was watching him.

And he found he had no fucking clue what to say. The words were all tangled up in his chest. Anger and betrayal and a hurt that cut deep. He didn’t know if he wanted to curse his dad or try and drag his ass back so he could shake him and demand to know what the fuck he was thinking and why he hadn’t bothered to share about any of this.

Sam took one look at his face and Dean could feel the moment his brother decided to put thoughts of conversation on hold. “It’s been a long few days and we’ve been short sleep for months. Maybe we should try that before we do anything else. No one’s getting in here unless they’re completely human and no one knows we’re here. We’re as safe as we ever get.”

Dean continued to stare at Sam, the words almost not making sense, struggling with the emotional storm brewing within him. It was a testament what kind of a number this was doing on him that when Sam stood and pulled him to his feet he didn’t even fight it. Just let his brother steer him towards the bedroom. He did make a wordless protest when Sam started on his shoes, pushing him away so he could remove them himself.

It wasn’t until they were both stretched out on the bed, Sam’s pressed along his back and an arm looped around his waist making him the little spoon that his brother said anything at all.

“There had to be a reason, Dean.”

The words were soft, but Dean could feel more than the confusion and anger and betrayal in them than he’d been feeling himself.

“There was always a reason, Sam,” Dean said harshly. “He always had a reason. And some of them were stupid reasons. You know, maybe if he hadn’t been trying to damn hard to be secretive things might have been different.”

“I’m not arguing that, Dean. You know how I felt about him never explaining things. You stepped in between us during half of the fights we had about it. But this time… I dunno. Maybe the reason was good enough to keep it to himself.”

Dean turned over enough to meet Sam’s eyes, catch a few thoughts running through his brother’s head… and felt like he had just been sucker punched.

“No…”

Sam shrugged, a small self-deprecating smile flickering into life before dying just as quickly. “And yet here we are,” Sam said quietly, regretfully.

Dean studied the gold flecks in his brother’s eyes, took in the misery Sam was still feeling underneath it all and trying so hard to hide and turned over to cup his brother’s face in his hands.

“Don’t, Sam. Don’t do that. You aren’t evil. Even Bobby said as much. You can’t believe this was about you.”

“We’ll never really know will we.” He didn’t pull away from Dean’s hands, thankfully, but his eyes turned bleak. “The fact still remains we’re here and nothing I’ve done was enough to keep from becoming… this.”

“It was to save me. Same as the damn deal was to save you. You wouldn’t have done it otherwise, Sammy. I know you wouldn’t have.”

The look in Sam’s eyes clearly said he wasn’t as sure as Dean was. And Dean was too tired to argue with him, too tired to try and bludgeon him with the facts of the situation. Instead he leaned in and kissed him. Just a long, slow, press of lips he tried to shove everything he was feeling into.

Sam kissed back without any sense of hesitation or reluctance but Dean could tell this conversation was far from over. And as they settled down to sleep, remembering the five hellhounds sticking to them like glue, remembering he himself could feel them in a similar way to Sam, he realized they needed to figure out what the fuck it all meant beyond demon blood dripped in an infant’s mouth and the claim Yellow-Eyes had made about needing a general in an army.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning found them both at the kitchen table, drinking bad coffee and both quieter than usual. Neither of them was willing to discuss what had come up for either of them the night before and yet they couldn’t seem to escape it either. The very house itself was a reminder. Every glance around highlighting questions neither was likely ever going to have an answer for. The only person who could have cleared it up was dead and had been for over a year.

Sam couldn’t help but feel he had a lot to do with why their dad had kept all of this a secret. He had no proof. It was just a gut deep feeling. John had clearly known more about what the yellow eyed demon had planned than he’d let on. And considering the situation, Sam had begun to wonder if maybe John hadn’t had the right of it.

They’d been sitting in silence for too damn long, coffee finally gone, and Sam was just about to speak when a sound caused them to both look up sharply.

The distant sound of a Hellhound’s baying echoed through the air. They were both frozen for a second before exchanging quick glances and heading for the front door. Only to be blocked from exiting by the two hound bitches on the porch. Sam wasn’t sure whether there was irony in the fact the same creatures who’d been sent to drag his brother to Hell were now equally determined to protect them.

“Out of the way!” Dean’s voice was sharp but neither hound moved an inch, clearly unwilling to let either of them through the warded door. Dean growled in frustration and Sam touched his arm lightly.

“We’ll stay on the porch but you need to let us pass.” Sam spoke evenly, holding the lead bitch’s gaze and putting a little force behind his words. The smaller hound whined a soft protest but shifted away from the door. The lead bitch was slower to move and her angry reluctance was clear in every slow step she took away from the door. She clearly wasn’t happy about them being exposed.

Dean swore again as he pulled away from Sam and stepped out on the porch. “They **do** know we’re hunters, right? We do this shit for a living?”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re human, those are demons. They’re trying to protect us.” Sam followed him out on the porch. It was still weird the hounds were playing guard dogs, weird how he could sense them and understand their intent. They were clearly far more than just demonic canines with shrewd intelligence behind those ember red eyes. Sam was starting to realize it wasn’t so much he’d tamed them as they’d _chosen_ to become their guards. Which was unsettling all on its own since Sam was damn sure it had far more to do with the power he’d been trying to avoid using than anything else.

“I’m not gonna sit inside and wait for them to come to us, Sam. That’s not me. Sooner they get that through their doggy heads the easier this will go.” Dean was scanning the property they could see from the porch, listening to the baying of the other three Hellhounds coming closer, trying to pinpoint the direction as sound bounced off of the landscape. Sam wasn’t sure how that even worked since only the souls of the damned could even hear the Hellhounds. A fascinating example of supernatural physics he didn’t have time to think about.

“The demons couldn’t get inside anyway. Besides, I doubt they’d even get that far. The Hounds would tear them apart before they got close enough. Hellhounds keep a scent logged forever once they have it. Any demon knows that much.”

Dean grunted, though Sam didn’t know if it was acknowledgment or just a general response. His brother’s gaze sharpened for a moment staring off into the distance before ducking back inside briefly. He returned with a loaded shotgun and returned to his spot, the bitch who seemed to have adopted him next to him and gazing alertly in the same direction. The similarity in their posture was unnerving and Sam glanced away.

He turned his own focus to scanning the rest of the area visible from the porch, trying to get a sense for how many demons were in the area. After the altercation at Bobby’s and the rest stop the demons _had_ to know the Hounds sent originally to claim Dean’s soul had had a change of heart. So to speak. It didn’t make sense for them to try and sneak up on them from a distance. Unless they were trying to draw the brothers out of the safety of the wards.

The lead bitch snarled viciously as the thought passed through Sam’s head and two demons appeared near him on the porch. She launched herself at one of them without hesitation, teeth deadly accurate and faster than the demon could react to. The other demon flinched in surprised when his partner went down under the snarling Hellhound, clearly not having expected the vicious attack, before he looked at the younger Winchester.

Sam couldn’t help his dark smirk.

“Lilith is seriously pissed, Winchester. How’d you sway her best Hounds from their task?” He was trying for bluster but Sam could tell the bravado was false. This was a demon who suddenly realized he was in over his head and trying to cover.  Something further proven by the way he jumped at the sound of the shotgun going off behind them. Attuned enough to Dean and the Hounds as well as the presence of each demon in the area, Sam had been expecting it. He didn’t even flinch, shutting out the sounds of the Hellhound snarls and the dying demons’ wet screams. Instead he held out a hand and slammed the demon staring at him against the wall, keeping him pinned. It was so easy. _Too_ easy. He had a brief memory of Jake and Ava both saying how many new tricks just came to you when you opened yourself up to it. And shoved it away to focus on the demon in front of him.

“I doubt Lilith is _half_ as pissed as I am.” He stalked slowly closer to the demon who was struggling against his hold, watching him approach with growing fear. “Rules have changed, or haven’t you heard?”

There was one last wet tearing sound and the lead bitch tossed what was left of the demon off the porch, returning to Sam’s side. Her eyes were glowing every bit as fiercely as Sam’s were and he dropped a hand to her head to keep her from launching herself at the demon currently pinned like an insect on a display.

“You can tell Lilith she can either back the fuck off and leave and my brother alone. Or she can keep sending her demons and we’ll keep killing them. Either way, we’re coming for her to have a little chat about the contract she thinks is so important to hold on to.”

“You’ll never find her.” Even Sam could tell the demon wasn’t completely sure of his words. Not the way he was staring at the younger Winchester and the way he kept his hand resting on the Hellhound’s head. Sam could feel the flames that wreathed her body twine around his forearm, sensed when Dean left his spot on the porch and stood just behind his other shoulder.

“You really wanna count on that? You assholes just don’t learn do you?” Dean’s voice was low with something lethal threaded in it. The demon’s gaze jerked away from Sam to look over his shoulder and the fear around him rose another notch or two. Sam had to resist tossing a look over his shoulder to see what Dean was doing to terrify the demon more than he had been just facing Sam and the Hellhound.

“You made a deal, Winchester! You can’t just back out of it!”

“I’m changing the terms,” Sam said before Dean could say anything in response. “Or didn’t you guys get the hint when I killed the last Crossroads demon who told me she couldn’t break Dean’s contract? Lilith wants to keep throwing her demons away she’s welcome to it. We’ll just keep killing them.”

He curled the fingers of his outstretched hand slowly and the demon screamed in pain. It was almost instinctive, an echo of the feel when Sam had tried to get the demon off of him at the rest stop but more certain this time and less desperate. Not enough to kill but enough to cause severe pain to the demon in front of him.

He was tempted to keep going, to shred the demon inside the meat suit slowly and painfully. Every bit of anger and fear he’d been carrying around for the better part of a year welled up at once. It was only feeling a flicker of answering viciousness in his brother, almost pressed along his back, that had him easing back and trying to swallow sudden nausea. Because he was enjoying this entirely too much. They both were.

He removed the force pinning the demon and watched him collapse to his knees. “Tell Lilith to back the fuck off. Dean’s off limits.” Sam’s voice was cold and merciless as he stared down at the gasping, terrified demon. “And don’t think I won’t know if you decide not to deliver my message. Remember, we’ve got five Hellhounds willing to rip you apart and they have your scent. They’ll find you anywhere. You can’t hide.”

The demon stared at Sam, glanced over his shoulder at Dean and the way he was pressed along his brother’s side, then at the two Hellhounds on the porch and the other three who had gathered on the ground below it before he shuddered.

“I’ll deliver the message.” He gave Sam one last terrified glance before he vanished.

“You sure that was a good idea, Sammy?”

Sam sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose and shrugged, trying to dismiss the lingering rage and fear, trying to ignore that part of him had wanted to kill the demon slowly and listen to him scream. “We needed someone to carry a message. She’ll just keep sending demons if all we do is continue to kill them. Bitch needs an idea of what she’s dealing with now. Couldn’t think of a better way to do it.” He glanced to Dean with a tired smile, which melted slowly as he took note of the glow fading from his brother’s eyes.

_Well shit._

Dean didn’t notice the way his smile faltered, turning to kneel next to the bitch who had been keeping close to him.  He stroked her between the ears and gave her extensive pets, the hound still with blood on her paws and muzzle almost wriggling ecstatically at the attention. “Should have seen my girl here. Took out a demon all by herself, didn’t you Padmé?”

Sam’s troubled thoughts stumbled to a screeching halt and he stared at his brother. “Did you… dude, did you seriously name a freakin’ _Hellhound_ after Queen Amidala from _Star Wars_?” His voice was incredulous, and he fought a smile as it twitched at his lips.

Dean tossed him a defensive and defiant look, cheeks lightly flushed. “Well, she needed _some_ kind of name! And I think she likes it.”

Sam almost choked on the laugh, only managing to rein it in when a note of hysteria started to creep into it. Dean scowled. “Like you haven’t got a name bouncing around that big brain of yours for the one currently pressed against your leg like she owns you.”

A blush warmed his own cheeks as Sam looked down at the bitch whose head his hand was still resting on, fighting the reflexive, defensive hunching of his shoulders.  Dean’s scowl turned smug as he gazed up at Sam, still petting Padmé. “That’s what I thought. Gonna enlighten the rest of the class?”

Sam huffed, feeling his cheeks heat even more. “Sanguis,” he mumbled.

Dean rolled his eyes, standing after giving Padmé one last caressing pet. “And you’re bitching about Padmé? Seriously? What’s it even mean?”

Sam squirmed a little. “It’s Latin. Can mean bloodshed or carnage. Figured it was kind of appropriate.” He looked down at the lead bitch who was gazing up at him, a considering look in her ember red eyes. She seemed to be thinking over the name. There was a brief flash of approval from her before she gave him a pointed look and firmly nudged him towards the door.

Dean snorted as Sam sighed. “Okay, okay, we’re going in, we’re going in.” He watched Dean retrieve the shotgun before following him inside.

They had adjusted to the continued presence of the Hellhounds entirely too quickly. It should have been far more disturbing to have them around than it was. That it wasn’t was more of a source of concern for Sam than anything else. Even more than their apparent dedication to keeping anything from killing either of them.

Was this how it had started for Ava? For Jake? Was that how they’d fallen so far so fast?

Closing the door behind them, Sam recalled the brief glimpse of Dean’s eyes on the porch and he turned to his brother. Wordlessly he pulled him close and tilted his head up, studying his eyes. They were the same green he’s known all his life… but they now had gold flecks in them the same as his did. He felt a sinking in his gut. “Damn…”

Dean hadn’t fought the grip on his chin, but he frowned now as Sam turned him loose and took a step back, paling.

“Sammy? What is it?” Sudden concern welled up and Dean took a step towards him.

“Your eyes.” It was all Sam could say, taking another step back. He couldn’t help it. This was all on him. Whatever soul bond he’d been happy for, knowing he could never lose his brother, now seemed like the worst curse he could have wished for. What had he done to Dean?

Dean stopped, one hand still half outstretched, when Sam took another step back.  There was a brief moment of fear. Sam could feel it, see it flare in his gaze just before Dean tightened his jaw and it was replaced by fierce determination. He stepped forward quickly, grabbing Sam’s arms even as Sam tried to avoid him.

“We’ll figure it out, Sam. I told you that.” Dean’s voice was fierce, his grip firm as he spoke. “We _always_ do. But you’re not doing this. This isn’t your fault. You didn’t _do_ this to me. Isn’t that what you told me back when we first found out about the soul bond from Missouri? Guess what, it goes both ways. For better or worse we’re in this _together_. You and me.”

Sam tried to twist out of his brother’s grip and couldn’t, feeling it was entirely too unfair for him to throw his own words back at him. Them both going to hell was one thing but… this? This seemed worse, somehow, and it was all because of _him_.

Dean shook him. “Stop it! This isn’t going to help us! And it’s _not_ worse. We’re alive and we’re together, damnit! We can figure it out. Come on, Sam. I need you here. I need to know we’re together in this.”

Sam stared down into his eyes, still far too pale, finally hearing the fear and desperation under the tight anger and determined timbre of Dean’s voice. Dean was just as freaked as he was right now. And in a way his brother was right. It didn’t really matter at this point who was to blame. It wouldn’t change anything.

He took a slow deep breath and let it out, finally nodding once. “Okay,” he said softly. He chewed on his lip, thinking. “We need to see if we have anything that mentions soul bonds and… we need to try and figure out more about who Lilith is. And what the fuck is going on with the… demon powers thing.” He hated to even say it out loud but avoiding it wasn’t an option anymore. It was becoming clearer and clearer that not only had his abilities **not** died with the yellow-eyed demon, but everything he seemed capable of doing now had to do with the demonic.

If he could figure out why, maybe he could keep it from bleeding any further over onto his bother.

Dean huffed out his own breath, tension bleeding from his shoulder and he turned Sam loose, ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll look through what Bobby sent with us. It’s a place to start.”

Sam nodded, almost too quickly. “I’ll go… look through the books down in the… in the basement.” He gave Dean a small smile that didn’t stay long, fading just as quickly as it appeared. “I’ll haul anything I find up here and… we can see if there’s anything at all that can give us some kind of answers.”

Dean hesitated, almost as though he knew Sam was trying to put distance between them for the moment. A muscle ticked in his jaw before he turned without a word, looking for the bag Bobby had handed him before they’d left the salvage yard. Sam felt a spark of relief Dean didn’t argue and made his way towards the study and the trap door that led down under the house.

They needed more info and they needed it sooner rather than later.  If they were lucky, they could find something in what they had. But as Sam descended the stairs he had to concede luck had never really been part of the Winchester’s lives. Too much tragedy lay in their past to even begin to hope this would end any better.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean watched Sam as he read, eyes intent on the page, a crease in his forehead and his hand, holding a pen, at his temple. He’d seen the look on his brother’s face often enough before. When Sam was chasing down a lead, when he was trying to figure out a problem. Hell, he could remember all the way back to Sam’s teens when he’d be working on homework and Dean could find him hunched over a book with that same intent look. Sam could get hyper-focused. It was one of the things that made him so good at research.

Right now, other than the look of concentration, Dean could almost _feel_ the wheels spinning in his little brother’s head.  It was fascinating and almost hypnotic. He knew his brother was smart, smarter than a lot of people gave him credit for. There were far more sides to Sam than most ever got to see. It had always made Dean proud, knowing how smart Sam was. Glad to have him on his side.

Dean wasn’t even pretending to read anymore. They’d been at this for hours, books open on the table and stacked on the floor around them. Lunch had passed quietly and uneventfully and slid right into dinner. They hadn’t paused in their perusal of the books even as they ate. It was odd not to see Sam’s laptop open but they didn’t actually have a net connection out here, at least not one they could access, and Sam had decided it wasn’t worth the time it would take to try and break through some unsuspecting person’s firewall even if they could get a signal. They weren’t under the same kind of deadline, but both of them could clearly feel they had a time limit to figure this all out.

Sam had kept his distance since the altercation that morning. Not a huge amount of distance, but enough for Dean to notice. Enough for it to feel wrong.

When Sam had disappeared down to retrieve books and after Dean had hauled the bag Bobby had given them to the kitchen table, he hadn’t been able to resist going to the bathroom to see what Sam had seen. Even expecting it he’d felt a frisson of shock run through him when faced with his own changed eyes.

It wasn’t even that the metallic gold flecks looked bad. As with the ones in Sam’s hazel-green eyes, they were almost cool. It was what those flecks meant that made Dean apprehensive. They hadn’t appeared in Sam’s eyes until the Hellhounds had shown up. When Sam’s eyes had shifted to that bright molten gold the first time.

And it was a molten gold, not the marble like yellow of the demon they’d been hunting all their lives. Clearly not a human color but not something that set the teeth on edge. Dean thought it made his brother look more like an avenging angel than a demon. Not that he’d say so out loud.

The fact his own eyes were reflecting his brother’s, however, clearly meant this bond between them went far deeper and was more than even what Missouri had told them it was. And Dean thought, after reading through the book in front of him, he might have an idea of why. But it had been an overwhelming thought and one he would be disinclined to believe if the last few months hadn’t happened. So he’d started watching Sam instead.

He was pretty sure Sam was aware of being watched but he didn’t show it at all. Didn’t pull his attention away from the book he was reading with that intense frown of his. But Dean could sense a growing uneasiness underneath the thoughts spinning through his brother’s head.

Which meant his little brother was on to something and he didn’t like what he’d found.

Sam finally sat back, tossed the pen on the table and stretched. He looked tired, guilt still lurking in the backs of his eyes, conflicting emotions still stirring even deeper down. But when he looked at Dean he gave him a small half smile and ran a hand through his hair.

“I think… I know who Lilith is.”

Dean blinked in surprise. He’d half forgotten that was one of the things they’d been searching for, his own thoughts thrown off the trail by what he’d found.

“Yeah?”

Sam nodded, twisting his head slowly to work out a crick. “Well… sort of.  There’s a lot of mythology about her. Kind of depends on whether you wanna trace her name back though literal language roots or not. In Jewish folklore she was supposed to have been the first wife of Adam. She left him because she refused to be subservient to him and apparently went off to mate with an angel of God with some pretty dark qualities.”

Dean made a derisive snort and Sam just sighed. “Yeah, Dean, I know your thoughts on angels. But seriously, doesn’t it make sense? I mean demons exist. We’ve seen them. Hell exists. If the world makes any kind of sense at all doesn’t it seem to follow that angels and Heaven also exist?”

“You’re assuming the world makes sense, Sammy.” Dean’s tone was derisive, but for a moment he paused, considering Sam’s words. Then he shrugged them off. “What else?”

Sam shrugged. “There are stories that Lilith is the first demon, created by Lucifer himself. The actual _creation_ of her varies from being seduced to his side to literally being the first demon created. Either way you look at it, she’s one of the most powerful demons in existence.” Sam’s voice was quiet, something Dean noted, but was stuck on something else he’d said.

“Lucifer? Like… the devil. Satan. Whatever. _That_ Lucifer?”

Dean watched Sam glance at the book in front of him, gnaw on his lip, thoughts whirling again. “Lucifer. Called the Morning Star. Formerly one of God’s angels. Fell and became the ruler of Hell.” He lifted his eyes and met Dean’s disbelieving gaze. “Look, Dean, I know you don’t wanna believe angels are a thing. But we’ve been learning too many things are… well things. We’ve known for a while Lilith has kind of wanted me dead.”

Dean had really been trying to forget that, honestly had forgotten under the circumstances. It had seemed irrelevant once learning the soul bound would drag them both to Hell once his deal was due. He ran an agitated hand through his hair and over his face. “Demons lie, Sam.”

“Except when the truth is more devastating than any lie they could come up with,” Sam countered. “Look, I don’t know what the actual truth is but we might need to start considering there might be some validity in this.”

Dean shook his head. That was a whole can of worms he didn’t even want to go opening. It left way more questions lying around than would actually help them right now.

“So what… we’re supposed to believe some demon who was gathering souls by turning chicks into witches now? Why would Lilith even fucking care so much? If she’s some all-powerful demon who was made by the supposed ruler of Hell you wouldn’t think one human would be much of a threat.”

Sam was quiet for so long, the color fading from his face, Dean started to get worried. “Sam? What else did you find?”

He shook his head, glanced away. “I need… some kind of confirmation first. It’s just… there’s not enough in this book to be sure. And if I’m wrong… “

Dean leaned forward. “Sammy, what is it?” He could feel the fear and uneasiness stirring in his brother and it set all his protective instincts on edge. Everything in him that had been focused on _take care of, Sammy_ from that first awful night. Earlier than that if he was frankly honest with himself.

Sam stared off into the air for a moment before looking back to him. His eyes had shifted again, determined and focused, the fear tucked away. “What did _you_ find?”

Dean wanted to growl. His brother wasn’t even being subtle about the change in topic and part of him wanted to get up and shake the answer out of him.

“Please, Dean.” Sam’s voice was softly pleading. “I swear, once I know for sure I’ll tell you everything. I just… give me time to be sure. Please.”

Dean swore softly and sat back in his chair. “You better.”

“I will.”

Dean stared at him for another long moment before he huffed, glancing at the book still open in front of him. “Like Missouri said, soul bonds happen for a variety of reasons in several different ways.” Sam wasn’t going to say whatever was in that head of his unless or until he had a reason to. Dean had encountered his stubbornness before. He could be a freaking wall when he put his mind to it. “They’re always forged. It’s not like something you’re born with. And the depth to which they go depends on the why and who and their relationship.” He paused, reluctant to continue.

“Did you know apparently soulmates are a thing, too?” It felt weird to even say it as he watched Sam’s face.

Sam blinked, confusion showing for a moment at the seeming jump. “Uh… I hadn’t thought about it, I guess.”

Dean snorted. “Neither had I. Probably wouldn’t even have considered it except the last few months have made it clear there’s a damn lot we don’t know. Soulmates are apparently rare. Far more rare than even soul bonds are. There’s a fair number of theories on the whys of that as well. But soulmates are different from soul bonds in they’re not forged. You’re either born with one or not. Whether you find them… well some do and some don’t. But apparently, once you do, if you have one…” he paused and his voice dropped and slowed. “…you’re _always_ drawn to that person. Even if you don’t know why.”

Sam’s confusion dissolved into a thoughtful frown, comprehension slowly filling his eyes. Dean continued before Sam could say anything.

“Soulmates don’t always forge a soul bond like others. They don’t usually have to. But when they do… especially when they’re intimately involved… a soul bond between soulmates is the deepest and strongest soul bond that exists.” Dean’s voice became slow, precise and he didn’t glance at the book once. He didn’t really need to. The words had been seared on his brain. “The bond ties the souls further together than with any other. It’s more than just a tether. They share experiences, dreams, thoughts and feelings. And when the bond goes deep enough between soulmates, they also share whatever gifts, abilities or whatever that normally only one of them would have.” He paused before adding softly, “Sound familiar?”

He watched Sam flinch a little before he reached across the table to grab the book in front of Dean, eyes skimming over the page, flipping back and skimming more before lifting stricken eyes back to Dean. “And you think…?” His voice was strained, hoarse.

Dean shrugged. “Fits, don’t you think? All this that’s been going on? This whole last year? Everything that didn’t make sense? Even Missouri said soul bonds don’t usually drag the souls around with each other. That she’d never even come across it before. If soulmates are that rare and don’t usually develop the same kind of bond, of course she wouldn’t have seen it.”

Sam swallowed hard, eyes wide, slowly realizing what Dean was implying. What this all meant. Dean saw when the guilt started to eclipse everything else in his eyes and shoved out of his chair, hearing it hit the floor as he came around the table to stand in front of Sam. Wouldn’t let his little brother avoid his hands as he reached out to cradle his face.

“Sammy, you listen to me. _Really_ listen.” He held Sam’s eyes, the grip on his face at once fierce and gentle and Sam couldn’t look away. Dean could feel a faint tremor run through his brother but Sam didn’t make any attempt to move away.

“ ** _I. Don’t. Care_** ,” Dean said low and intensely. “You are my brother. My Sam. _Mine_. And you have been for a long time. How we got here is irrelevant. Whether it’s right or wrong? _Irrelevant_. It’s you and me. It always has been. From the moment I carried you out of our burning house, you’ve been mine. Both of us fought it, both of us _felt_ it. When you ran to Stanford I _let you go_ though it damn near killed me. Because it’s what you wanted. But I felt the separation every damn day and I know you did, too. Whatever happens now, whatever we do, we’re in it _together_. You didn’t ask for any of this any more than I did and you cannot feel guilty about it for the rest of your life. It will fucking kill you. I don’t know what it all means, but I know this.”

Dean paused, gold-flecked green eyes boring into stricken and dazed gold-flecked hazel-green, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “You are the most important thing in my life and I will do **_anything_** to stay with you and keep you safe. The world can burn to the ground around us and **_I won’t fucking care_** as long as I have you. And I know you feel the same way. All I have to do is look at your eyes and know how far you would go for me. So let the guilt fucking go because I’m where I wanna be. However the fuck this works out, you are stuck with me. At your side. We’re a team, we always have been.”

“Dean…” Sam protested weakly. “You can’t mean that…”

“And you know I do. Fuck hunting. Fuck saving people. Fuck everything. None of it matters one fucking bit without you. The Hellhounds, your powers becoming mine, whatever it has to do with Hell and demons I can live with it as long as I have you. And don’t tell me I don’t mean it when I know damn well you can feel just how much I mean every word.”

Sam fell silent, just gazing back at him. Still too pale. And Dean got it. He did. After all it had been Sam’s mouth the demon had bled into. It was a curse Sam clearly thought was his alone, had tainted only him, and he’d done everything he could to keep it from bleeding all over Dean. But Dean also knew it was their closeness that had kept Sam fighting from giving in for as long as he had, what kept Sam holding on to everything not tainted by the demon blood in his veins. He hadn’t walked away from Sam when he’d found out about it and he damn well wasn’t walking away now.

He wasn’t letting his brother run away from it either.

Sam’s eyes slowly widened as it sunk in further just how serious Dean was. As he realized despite the number of fights they’d had over the years underneath it all Dean meant what he said. Slowly he reached up, resting his hands on Dean’s hips, fingers curling into his clothes and holding tightly.

“I freaked out when we first found out about this bond because I didn’t want you in Hell. I made the deal because I couldn’t live in a world without you. I couldn’t let you go. And you told me, repeatedly, you didn’t care. That you didn’t regret it. This is the same damn thing, Sammy. I want you to hear it this time but I will say it as many times as I have to to get it through your big, thick, stubborn skull. Did I want it to come to this for either of us? Hell no. Would I change some things if I could? Damn straight. Have I ever wanted to be this close to anyone else? Never in my freaking life.”

Sam’s fingers tightened further as tears suddenly welled in his eyes. Dean leaned down, hands still cradling his face and kissed him lightly before pressing their foreheads together. “I love you, Sammy. And we’ll handle whatever the hell comes our way. Together. Just like we always do. Even if that means dealing with literal Hell. You and me.”

Dean supposed that blew his no chick flicks rule right out of the water. He couldn’t even bother to feel embarrassed about it. Because as unsettling as their situation had become, whatever Sam had done to save him and whatever changes it meant in the long term for them both, as long as he had his brother he’d handle it. Even whatever it was Sam was hiding, whatever it was he suspected was going on that still had uneasiness coiled deep in him.

“Do you believe me?”

Sam was quiet, breathing gone uneven, face damp with tear tracks and eyes closed but still clinging just as hard as he could. “I believe you,” he said softly.

“Good.” He brushed his thumbs over his cheeks again, through the tears, smoothing them away and kissed him again. “We’ve got work to do.”


	5. Chapter 5

The consensus they finally reached the next day was that they weren’t going to figure anything else out where they were. And the implications behind the house’s existence were still messing with them both. Sam figured if they had time to adjust it would be less weird eventually. But he also figured there were a lot of reasons not to stay.

Including the one he hadn’t said but knew they were both thinking: how long before those wards were less protection and more trap for them?

Since Sam wasn’t 100% sure what it was that was going on, he didn’t even have a hypothesis. It was different than what had happened to Ava and Jake and they were the only two psychic children Sam had seen embrace the demonic side of their powers as they had. And with it affecting Dean as well… It was more of a risk to stay than to be back on the road.

“Besides,” Dean had pointed out as they had replaced most of the books on their shelves, “what’s really changed? Since we’re not waking up from nightly jaunts to Hell’s top tourist spots we’re not exactly any worse off now than we were when this whole jacked year started. We know who we gotta kill, we just have to find her ass.”

Sam didn’t point out that _a lot_ had changed because he knew what Dean meant. At this point he was figuring ripping up Dean’s contract was a formality that was irrelevant. A technicality he’d still like to have out of the way, but not one that was going to affect much in the long run. Not with the changes going on in them both. Sam didn’t even know if it could be reversed. Not now. But he was having to make a lot of guesses based on personal experience and no other info and with Dean in the equation he didn’t like the number of question marks surrounding them.

Any way they looked at it, they weren’t going to get anymore done here. They’d caught their breath, got some solid sleep and sent a message to Lilith. It was time to get moving. Besides, Sam needed to find another book, another _something_ that explained more of what he’d found than the one he had kept out as they put the rest up. He had a vague idea of what they might be looking for, but now they needed to contact Bobby. If anyone had an idea if a book of demonic prophecies or something akin to it existed, the older hunter would. And possibly have a lead on where to find it.

Sam was trying to not wallow in guilt. He really was. After Dean’s rather intense and impassioned speech the night before (and if Sam was feeling less miserable he would totally have given Dean shit for the most chick-flicky of chick flick moments to date that wasn’t involving in one of them narrowly escaping death) Sam had found himself tugged out his chair and towed to their bedroom.

Sex between them took on a lot of shades and usually depended on how much time they had or how tired they were or how close a call on a hunt they’d had. A push-pull with subtle challenge weaved into every move until one of them gave in and submitted. Sam, sometimes more aggressive than his brother had given him credit for and been slightly astounded to learn, and Dean had found a balance, a give and take. Neither of them were strictly the ‘bottom’ or ‘top’ and circumstances played far more into who ended up where than anything.

But last night was the first time, with a fiercely possessive gleam in gold-speckled green eyes, Dean hadn’t allowed Sam a moment to even try to fight. Had undressed him slowly with single minded focus, the tenderness in his fingers and lips and tongue sharper than any blade and tearing down every resistance Sam could think to make until he couldn’t think at all. His brother had proceeded to prove without words he’d meant everything he’d said to Sam in a way Sam couldn’t argue and couldn’t fight.

Dean had worked him over for hours until Sam was a sweaty, exhausted, pleasure hazed mess who couldn’t remember his name much less string words together into a sentence. And Dean’s last words of “There is _nothing_ you could do that would make me not love you, not want you, not want to be here with you” whispered into the back of his neck as he drifted to sleep as the little spoon had danced through his head and his dreams.

His brother had always been like a force of nature in Sam’s life, for as long as he could remember. Those years at Stanford had been the only time he’d been apart from Dean for so long and he’d felt it every day. He’d tried to convince himself otherwise, tried to put his all into the relationship with Jess, but Dean was right. He’d felt and fought the pull every damn day, had known it the instant Dean had shown up at his place in the middle of the night and he found himself on his back and staring up into a face he’d never forget and had followed him nonstop.

And if it wasn’t for whatever powers Sam had seeming to cross the divide between them, Sam wouldn’t even have bothered to think about trying to put space between them. He’d given that up the first time Dean had fucked into him after dying and coming back, a demon deal struck and a devil’s Gate opened and the death of the demon that had put them on this path. They didn’t have anyone but each other to lean on, to rely on and they didn’t trust anyone, not even Bobby, the way they trusted each other.

Sam came out of his thoughts standing next to the small kitchen table and frowning intently down at the book he’d kept out, fingers running lightly over the cover. They couldn’t break whatever it was between them. Sam had tried and Dean had let him and it hadn’t worked. And that was _before_ they’d gotten so much more tied together.

Dean was right. Whatever this was they were in it together. Glancing around, eyes pausing as they ran over the various protective sigils _everywhere_ Sam had to wonder if they were always meant to come to this or if they’d strayed from their respective paths at some point. And finally realized he didn’t care. Numerous times he’d tried to walk away from his brother and none of them had worked. Pulled back together like a bungee cord snapping them back every damn time.

“Sam!”

Sam’s head snapped in the direction of the study and his brother’s insistent call and he was moving that way before it had even consciously registered. Reaching the door he stopped, looking at Dean sitting in the old chair, papers spread across the desk and a frown on his face. He looked up as Sam appeared, and Sam felt a surge of brief anger tightly controlled.

“What?” Sam stepped into the room warily, glancing at the papers and recognizing their dad’s handwriting, before settling his gaze on Dean.

“Hadn’t gone through the shit in here and thought we should before we bailed.” Dean’s voice was tight and strained. “Apparently Dad didn’t keep everything in that journal of his.”

Something in Dean’s voice made tension slither into Sam’s shoulders as he came to a stop next to him. At the same time he found he wasn’t surprised. He didn’t even look at the pages again, kept his gaze on his brother.

“He did know more than he told us, didn’t he? About me.”

Dean growled and started to gather the pages up with angry movements. “We need to talk to Bobby.”

“We’d already decided that, Dean. What the hell did he know?”

Dean shrugged, still angry, and stood. “More than he said and not enough. I can talk and drive and if I stay here another minute I swear to God I’m gonna start tearing into the walls or something.” He gave Sam a sharp, narrow-eyed look. “And _you’re_ going to tell me what the hell you’re trying to keep to yourself. Secrets about this between us are only gonna come back and bite us in the ass. And yeah, I know, you said when you learned more. But if any of this means anything at all…”

His voice trailed off and with another pointed look he stalked out of the room, Sam trailing behind him.

They’d already packed, already loaded the car, the Hounds watching it all even as they kept watch over the surrounding landscape. Sam grabbed the book left on the table, the last thing left to grab, and followed Dean out of the house. He felt… _something…_ as he passed through the door and paused as he closed it, studying the door with the strangest sense that he’d just lost something.

_We’re not coming back here again. There’s no point._ It was a disconcerting thought, carrying more certainty than he’d had for a long time. Sam shook it loose and turned, found Sanguis still standing on the porch and watching him. Padmé was by the car, watching Dean with adoring ember-red eyes, and bizarre a sight as it might have been it made Sam smile just a little before turning his attention to Sanguis.

“Stay close. No attacking anyone.”

Sanguis snorted and looked affronted.

“Fine. No attacking anyone _unless_ they attack us first. No random jumping vehicles. Same rules apply as before.” It should have felt way weirder giving a Hellhound directives and yet it didn’t and Sam was done trying to twist his brain around the whys. It was what it was and the Hounds had done more than prove they meant to keep him and Dean as safe as they possibly could.

Dean was drumming on the wheel impatiently as Sam slid into the passenger seat, placing the book in the backseat as Dean started the engine.

“It’s not like we’re losing that much, Sammy.”

Dean’s voice was still edged in anger as he pulled away from the house without a backward glance. Sam didn’t even try to misunderstand the comment.

“It’s not about the place, Dean. Not about the house.”

“We’re still not losing that much.”

“Until the day we can’t walk into Bobby’s house.”

Dean was quiet but Sam saw a muscle tic in his jaw as it tightened and he decided to let it drop.

“What’s got you so pissy? What did Dad write?”

Might as well get to the point.

Dean was quiet as he focused on driving, retracing the path that had brought them out here, jaw still tight and fingers curled around the steering wheel as if he was strangling something. They flexed once before his grip eased and he huffed.

“Does the phrase ‘Lucifer’s heir’ mean a damn thing to you?”

Sam tensed before glancing away and out of the window.

“That’s what I thought.” Now the anger was clear in Dean’s voice. “And you thought you needed to _wait_ to tell me that? After everything that’s happened the last few days?”

“I wanted to be sure. I’m still not. And the book I saw the phrase in was lacking in details, which is why we need more information.” Sam was just resigned for the moment. “I told you, I was going to tell you as soon as I knew for sure. But I _didn’t_ know for sure, so I didn’t say anything.” He’d been desperately hoping he was wrong.

“Wait…” Sam’s head whipped around so hard he felt his neck muscles protest, eyes widening slightly. “Dad… knew?”

“Dad _suspected._ Apparently he’d caught wind of someone who had some library of shit he wanted to check out, but I’m guessing he never made it. But he definitely had some suspicions. More than suspicions.” Dean growled. “If the man hadn’t been so dedicated to keeping his damn _secrets_ and had just fucking _told_ us this maybe we could have done something. But he just _had_ to keep it to himself.”

“Dean,” Sam said softly. Then he stopped. He’d already had the thought John had a far better idea of whatever Sam was meant for, already had the thought that he might have kept some of his secrets because he wasn’t sure how much he could _trust_ his younger son. There wasn’t any point to saying it all now, not when Dean was already pissed off.

“No, Sam. If he’d told us any of this shit it could have kept us from doing exactly what the demons wanted. He kept it secret then made a _damn deal_ and the last thing he says to me is if I can’t save you I might have to kill you? Fuck that.”

“He made the deal for the same reason you did, Dean. To save a life. Yours.”

“And he should never have made it in the first place!”

An old argument Sam had thought they gotten past and still twisted like a knife in his gut to hear Dean say. “Like you shouldn’t have made yours?” He said it softly, quietly, none of the pain that had flared at the thought of losing his brother in his voice.

But he felt the answering flare of panicked pain in Dean.

“Look, it’s in the past and nothing we can do will change either one. So just… tell me what Dad suspected.”

Dean was quiet a moment longer, struggling to stow his own pain and settle the anger. Sam could feel the effort it took and felt a sliver of regret for having brought it up. If he’d known demon deals were a thing when Dean had been lying in that hospital bed he might had beat his dad to the punch. And where that would have landed them he had no idea and figured it was just not a thing he needed to worry about.

“Dad somehow found out the demon blood was a… marker, or something. That this has been going on for years. Kids with possible psychic tendencies born in certain years… the demon would find them, drip blood in their mouths so he could find them later. The blood guaranteed the abilities wouldn’t stay latent, would manifest by a certain time. But it also seems to invariably drive them insane and all of them would die before they were 25.”

Sam blinked. “So… all of us, the psychic kids, already had the tendencies? The abilities?” And maybe he’d suspected it but it was still a shock to hear it confirmed.

“Yeah, but apparently the demon blood… affected whatever latent gifts any of you had. Changed them. Tied you all to each other and to the demon. But the point is that wasn’t the point. He was looking for _one_ of you, has been for years. One who wouldn’t go insane with the power, someone who could handle it without losing their mind. Because that one would be Lucifer’s heir, whatever the fuck that means.”

“So Dad hadn’t figured that part out?” Sam felt a surge of relieved disappointment. Whatever his dad had suspected, at least he hadn’t been as close to Sam’s own suspicions. Of course Sam was dealing with serious first-hand experience and his dad hadn’t exactly been around to see it up close and personal like Dean had been. Even when it had been just visions.

“No. That’s why he was trying to locate this chick. He’d heard about her. Apparently had been a curator at some museum at some point and stumbled across something she thought shouldn’t be in view of the general public. So she started collecting things, keeping them under lock and key or something. _Supposedly_ to keep them out of the wrong hands.”

Dean flicked a glance to Sam before turning back to the road.

“So, how much of that lines up with whatever you read that got you all freaked out yesterday?”

Sam swore softly to himself and turned to look out the window and the passing scenery. His eyes briefly picked out the form of one of the Hellhounds, not that he needed to see them with his eyes. He could feel all five of them, easily keeping pace. Dean wasn’t going to let it go now and Sam had to admit maybe he had a point. Maybe keeping it to himself wasn’t fair, not when it was apparently going to impact Dean every bit as heavily under the circumstances.

“The only thing it said was that Lucifer’s heir would awaken and take the throne. That’s _all_ it said, I swear. It didn’t say anything or give any clues about who Lucifer’s heir was or anything else. But…” Sam trailed off.

“The demons have been referring to you as the Boy King ever since the Devil’s Gate.” Dean finished the thought, fingers flexing on the wheel again.

Sam shrugged. “Like I said, I wanted more of a confirmation.” Especially since not once in the last year had any of them seemed to be worried about Dean in this equation. “It would explain why Lilith wanted me dead so badly.” Although Sam had to wonder now. Especially about the ‘awakened’ part. If Lilith had wanted him dead to keep power for herself, she’d obviously wanted it before that happened.

Dean was so quiet Sam finally pulled his gaze away from the scenery he wasn’t really seeing to study his brother, who had a frowning thoughtful look on his face.

“Soon as we reach someplace to stop that has a signal we’re calling Bobby. See if he knows who Dad was looking for. And see if he has any way to track down that bitch.” He looked over to Sam, the gold flecks in his eyes flaring for a moment. “I don’t know how the rest of this plays out but one way or another she dies.” It was more intense for it being said quietly, something dark and feral swimming in the depths of Dean’s eyes before receding.

It made Sam remember torturing the demon the day before. The edge of viciousness he’d felt in himself echoed in Dean. It wasn’t so much it was new. They were hunters and had been killing things for longer years than most. The violence he understood, knew it lurked in Dean as much as in himself. But _now_ it held a different feel to it, something that echoed along the link between them and was much darker.

Sam could hardly argue, since he wanted Lilith dead every bit as badly as Dean did. He did wonder if it should worry him more that the edge of viciousness that lingered between them _didn’t_ worry him like he thought it should.


	6. Chapter 6

“And Bobby said he’d let her know we were coming, right?”

Sam sighed softly and said evenly, “For the fiftieth time, Dean, yes. He told her we were coming and who we were.”

Dean gripped the steering wheel harder and tried to ignore the flash of annoyance in his brother. Both of them were staring at the small house and the second building not far from it with trepidation.

It was a few days and several states later. They’d stopped briefly in the first town they could catch a signal in and called Bobby, told him what they’d found and given him the name Karen Miller, which had been in their Dad’s writings. Well, they’d mostly told him what they’d found. They hadn’t mentioned the whole soulmate theory, nor had either of them mentioned the change in Dean’s eyes or what meant. And Sam hadn’t specifically told the older hunter what he’d found in reference to Lucifer’s heir, though they’d told him about Lilith.

Bobby wasn’t stupid, though, and he knew Sam and Dean better than most. The considering silence that had carried across the line after they’d summed up the last few days had had Dean frowning at the phone. Bobby had confirmed that he’d heard of the woman and that she was said to have collected a lore library without peer. She also kept it under lock and key and warded to hell and gone. While she didn’t mind helping a hunter out in a tight spot by letting them look through what she’d collected to see if they could find something useful, she was damn picky about _who_ she let in.

“She’s every bit as paranoid as any hunter you boys’ll meet an’ if she takes a dislikin’ to you, you won’t ever see the inside of that library of hers. But I know her. Not well, mind, but I know her. I’ll give her a call, tell her I’m sendin’ you her way.”

There had been a little doubt riding under the man’s tone, and Dean wondered how confidant Bobby was this Karen Miller would let them see if she had what they were looking for. Sam was also frowning but Dean could feel it was clearly for a different reason and hadn’t pushed for it.

“You boys be careful, hear me?”

Sam and Dean had both said they would before Bobby had grunted something about trying to find something about Lilith and hanging up without even a good-bye.

And now, both of them sitting in the Impala at dusk and gazing at the small one story house as they listened to the engine ticking as it cooled, neither seemed in a hurry to get out.

“The hounds?” Not that he really _needed_ to ask but it was a question to fill the silence between them.

“I told them to stay on the outskirts of the property. Even if we’re the only ones who can see them, if she’s as paranoid as Bobby says she is, she’s probably sharp and likely has wards and traps for demons. We’re trying to get her to trust us, not think we’ve come to kill her for her collection.”

Thinking about the Hellhounds consciously brought the awareness of them sharp and clear and Dean could sense them stretched the length of the property fence and radiating displeasure. Sanguis did _not_ like them being out sight. None of them did but she took it personally every time Sam made her stay.

On one hand Dean could get it. Hard to guard someone you couldn’t see. On the other hand, they _could_ see the Hounds and were hard pressed to behave as though they weren’t there. People who saw other people paying attention to something they couldn’t see tended to get wary.

“I still don’t understand why you’d gather enough stuff to fill a building almost the same size as your house and not let _anyone_ see it.” Sam sounded faintly scandalized and Dean tried not to snort softly.

“Bobby said she lets people see it, she just chooses who.”

Sam pulled his gaze away from the house and looked at him. “And when she dies? And how does she know who to trust? There are a lot of people who’d be willing to kill for what she has.”

“Which is likely why she’s paranoid as fuck, Sam. Can we get on with this? We got shit to find and if she doesn’t have what we need we’ll have to try somewhere else. Which takes more time.”

Sam had pulled out one of his patented bitchfaces, his eyes clearly saying he was aware thank you very much and it was familiar enough to make Dean relax a bit and smirk. Things had been weird on the drive here, Sam quieter than usual when he wasn’t nose deep in the book he’d brought with them. As tied to each other as they were they couldn’t _literally_ read each other’s minds, though they had a much better idea of what the other was thinking (or brooding over) than they would have before. And Dean had to admit, even before they’d been able to read each other well.

They both slid out of the car, doors closing with a single thump that echoed faintly in the deepening dark. Dean pocketed the keys as they made their way up the stairs to the front door, small porch light on and lighting up a circle of yellow around the door itself, leaving the rest of the porch to fade into shadows.

Dean stayed next to Sam as he knocked on the door, fighting a growing instinctive urge to stay just behind Sam’s shoulder. It went against his usual instincts enough to be an annoying itch under his skin when he fought it even if it usually faded quickly enough. That it happened at all pissed him off. He was the one who _protected_ Sam, always had been. He didn’t know where this new urge came from and he didn’t like it much.

It didn’t help that as relaxed as Sam appeared Dean could feel worry eating at him under it all. The comment he’d made in the car about the warding still sat between them. They hadn’t talked about it mostly because what was there to say? Clearly Sam was still worrying at it.

The sound of deadbolts unlocking pulled his attention to the door. Which cracked enough to reveal a chain on the door, a pair of steely gray eyes and the business end of a shotgun.

“What do you want?”

The voice was low, rough and as wary as the grey eyes that flicked back and forth over them both. The shotgun didn’t waver a bit, steady and trained on Sam.

Dean didn’t dare pull his eyes away from the door but could feel Sam do that thing he did to make himself seem far less dangerous despite the height and build of him.

“Karen Miller?” His voice was soft and soothing, hands loose at his side and Dean had to fight a smirk. He never had figured out how Sam could make people see him as a giant teddy bear. It had to be more than those dimples. “I’m Sam Winchester and this is my brother, Dean. Bobby Singer sent us. Said he would call you to let you know we’d be coming.”

Dean watched her grey eyes weigh his words, flicking to study him for a moment. He gave her his own bright smile but kept his mouth shut. There was a soft grunt and the door closed. There was the sound of a rattling chain and the door reopened, wider, to reveal a woman on the tall side with short dark hair liberally speckled with grey in worn jeans and a T-shirt. She stayed on her side of the door and the shotgun was still pointed steadily at them, though she shifted it to Dean rather than Sam as she studied them both.

Dean felt like a bug under a microscope as those grey eyes assessed them, the suspicion tamped down some as they made no move to either attempt to force entry or avoid the shotgun.

“Might have gotten a call from Bobby sayin’ he was sendin’ some hunters my way. How do I know you’re actually them?”

Dean rolled his eyes a little. Sam stayed easy, warm smile on his face. “Our dad, John Winchester, was coming to see you. We only learned of it recently. And Bobby said to let you know he still thinks your translation of that Babylonian prophecy is off.”

It seemed a weird way to let someone know who the fuck they were and Dean had questioned it the whole way there, but the change in Karen proved Bobby had the right of it. Fire entered her grey eyes and her posture shifted, a smile crooking at the corner of her lips.

“Bobby never could admit when he was wrong, the old fool.” She huffed and the shotgun lowered, most of the suspicion fading. Not all, though and she stayed firmly on her side of the door. Dropping his eyes Dean saw there was a similar permanent salt barrier crossing the threshold of the door.

She clearly wasn’t an idiot.

“He said you boys were lookin’ for some help trackin’ a demon. Same demon John was lookin’ for? I remember talkin’ to him, had to have been ‘bout two years gone now. Said he was comin’ my way but never did show. Then got word he’d died.” There was a faint question in her eyes.

“Car accident. Messed us all up pretty good.” Dean had no idea how Sam managed to get just the right blend of regret mixed into his voice when he could feel the anger simmering in his brother having to talk about John. Not that he blamed him, he was still pretty pissed at the man himself. “And this is actually a different demon. Managed to kill the one he was tracking little more than a year ago now.”

The question faded from grey eyes and Karen nodded sharply, finally set the shotgun by the door. “Dunno if I can help you boys. I’ll tell you same thing I told your dad. I got lore books a plenty, even got a fair bit of them about demons. Translatin’ is damn slow though. Ain’t written in any language I come across in all my years doin’ this and translatin’ is my job. So if you wanna take a look, see if anything might help, you can. Can’t make no guarantees though.”

“Sam’s pretty good with languages,” Dean offered. It was the first thing he’d said since she’d opened the door and almost seemed to surprise her as she looked at him. She gave him a swift head to toe onceover and tilted her head, an insinuating smirk brightening her eyes.

“Wondered if you could talk. Didn’t quite line up with what I done heard about you boys, you standing there all quiet like.”

Dean felt affronted, scowling a little as he felt genuine humor chase some of the anger out of Sam as he laughed softly. “I talk,” Dean muttered.

“Uh huh.” Karen shook her head and finally stepped outside, closing the door firmly behind her. “C’mon, then. Couple rules about messing about in my library.” She stepped briskly down the stairs, headed for the building set slightly to one side and behind her house.

Sam and Dean glanced at each other before following her. Dean couldn’t help the habitual check out. Whether or not he was happy with Sam and hadn’t been in anyone else’s bed since they’d started having sex, he still appreciated a good looking woman. And she was a handsome woman even if she was closer to Bobby’s age than theirs. She moved easily, lean and wiry, jeans molded to her hips and butt.

Sam elbowed him with a frown just as “Checkin’ out my ass ain’t gonna get you want you want. Just so’s we’re clear,” drifted over Karen’s shoulder without even a glance back at them. Her tone was amused, though.

Dean grinned, ignoring Sam’s frown. Sam snorted softly and shook his head in disgust. Dean thought it did more to solidify they were who they said they were than anything else he could have said or done. Especially if Karen had heard any kind of rumors about them. Which really, never stopped being startling. Before learning about Ellen and the Roadhouse neither of them had even known about how hunters networked. Or that the name Winchester was hardly unknown among them. Mostly because of John.

Of course, after Wyoming, the name Winchester had been tarnished and never mind they’d done every damn thing they could have to keep the Devil’s Gate from being opened. That was all on Jake, the bastard. Didn’t seem to matter much. They had been there, so clearly they’d been responsible. It was hardly fair. Bobby and Ellen had been there, too, and Dean hadn’t heard fuck all whispered about either of them in a disparaging way. No, that was saved for Sam.

He felt long fingers brush over his shoulder as they reached the building and glanced at Sam. He had that look again, the one he’d had when he’d first mentioned maybe their dad had been right about keeping his secrets. Had been right about _Sam_. Had had reason not to trust him. And if Karen hadn’t been standing there and Sam hadn’t introduced them as brothers he might have done more than just give Sam a fiercely defiant look and shake of his head.

Sam might feel like everyone had been right, but Dean didn’t share the opinion. Only reason they were here in the first place was for a number of things that had been way out of their control. And Sam hadn’t embraced whatever the fuck he was until they were down to the wire. And only for Dean. He knew that to his bones and one way or another he’d get Sam to stop carrying that guilt around.

Karen didn’t catch the silent exchange, pulling a ring of keys out of her pocket. The building had no windows to speak of, far bigger than a shed but not big enough to be considered barn-like in proportion. The wood was weathered but sturdy and the door was solid. There were two padlocks and two deadbolts, which Karen unlocked carefully before pulling the door open and nodding them inside.

Stepping over the threshold into the building Dean had the brief sense of something crawling over his skin, there and gone but leaving the hairs on his arm standing up. He felt the surprise in Sam as well just before lights flickered on. He glanced over his shoulder to see Karen had followed them in and flicked a switch, watching them both intently.

Dean’s eyes narrowed as he studied her resisting the urge to rub his arms. Sam stepped further inside, and Dean picked up a vague sense of awe as his brother looked around and took everything in. Dean, however, kept his unfriendly gaze focused on the woman standing in the door. Karen returned his look steadily and unapologetically.

“Not stupid, boy. Wards are there to keep anyone who has less than altruistic purposes from gettin’ their hands on what I got here. Lotta knowledge under one roof. Not everyone who wants to take a gander at it means well. And not everyone who looks human actually is.”

Dean felt his jaw tighten as he flicked a glance at Sam who had moved farther in and seemed to not be listening. His brother seemed engrossed in taking in the shelves and table in the room beyond. Dean knew better. The tension was back. Sam was completely aware of the conversation.

“You’ve heard more than you let on,” Dean said softly.

Karen shrugged a shoulder, looked towards Sam. “I hear a lot of things. Some true, some not so much. Hunters talk. Rumors spread. Can’t stop that. I done heard a lot of things about you two boys. Done a lot of good. Capable of causing a lot of damage.” She turned her grey eyes back on Dean, leaning casually along the door jamb of the still open door. “Pretty sure you done heard most of it. I like to make my own calls.” Her eyes narrowed, though her voice stayed frank. “You two? I’m guessin’ you’re both damn dangerous. Not only because you’re hunters. He’s good, I’ll give him that. Like as not ‘cuz he ain’t really wanna cause harm to nobody. Got sincerity in those huge eyes of his. Means what he’s sayin’ in the moment he’s sayin’ it. Wouldn’t have let you this far if I didn’t believe that much. I don’t think you boys mean harm. I think you’re both capable of it anyway.”

Dean felt his fingers curl into fists at his sides but he made no move to shift closer to her. They needed to see if she had anything that might give them more information than they currently had and there was no real reason to threaten her. It was just his instinctive reaction to hearing people were talking shit about Sam. Again.

Damn Gordon Walker. He couldn’t be sorry at all the bastard was dead. But he’d already done his damage. It didn’t matter if some of it was true. The slant that asshole had put on it was all wrong. Even now.

Karen noted the anger and snorted softly as she straightened up. “Nothin’ leaves here. You wanna make copies? There’s paper and pens and pencils. There’s a computer in the back. It’s got the translations I’ve managed if you run into trouble. It don’t connect up to nothin’ so don’t bother tryin’. I lock you boys in. You get four hours an’ I’ll come back for you. If you find what you’re lookin’ for before then, there’s a closed circuit phone with the computer. Goes straight to the house. You gimme a holler an’ I’ll come let you out. Bathroom also in the back. Dorm fridge with drinks near the table. Wouldn’t bother trying to use your cell phones. Wards  will fuck with them.” Steel entered her grey eyes. “I’ll know if you try removin’ anything so I’d advise you not to try. We understand each other?”

Dean was quiet a long moment, holding her gaze and struggling to control his irritation. She was within her rights. This was her place and they were guests. She might have something they needed to make this whole cluster fuck make some kind of sense. Whatever he felt personally about it, she was being fair enough. So he nodded sharply.

Karen gave him a tight smile and stepped back out of the door. “Then I’ll see you boys in four hours or when you find somethin’, whichever comes first.”

The door closed and Dean stayed where he was as he listened to the locks reengage before going over to study the door. Even if the padlocks hadn’t been on the outside, the deadbolts were one way. There was nothing to pick. It was like a damn vault.

He swore fiercely, then immediately had to send soothing back to the Hounds who all picked up on his anger. Convinced them to stay where they were, he and Sam were fine. And they were. He huffed and turned, muttering under his breath about paranoid women and moved farther inside the building. He finally registered the bookshelves and the sheer number of tomes and scrolls and books that were crammed on them. Took in the table and chairs briefly, exactly as Karen had said they would be, and tried to shake a sudden sense of uneasiness.

“Sam?”

“Back here.”

Dean followed his brother’s voice, found him in a back corner, crouched down and studying a smaller bookshelf intently.

“She locked us in. We got four hours.” Dean sounded disgruntled as he approached, feeling the hairs on his arms lifting again the closer he got to Sam and the shelf.

“Makes sense,” Sam said softly. “Kind of expected it, honestly.” He glanced over his shoulder. “She’s serious about keeping this shit under lock and key. The warding is on a level I’ve never seen before.”

Dean shrugged and glanced at the shelf. “You think those might help?”

“Can’t you feel the power on them?”

Dean frowned at Sam and the books impartially. “If you mean do I feel like the hairs on my arm are trying to crawl away and find a new home, yeah. I can feel it. That important?”

Sam was quiet. He might not have said anything but Dean could feel the conflict swirling again under the surface. He’d get to the bottom of it later. Sam reached out and tugged three books from the shelf and stood.

“If we only have four hours, we should make the best of it. C’mon.”

He shouldered past Dean, headed back for the table and carrying the books. Dean huffed and followed him.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time Karen came to let them back out, Sam had copied a large numbers of passages from all three books, along with passages from a few others he’d had Dean retrieve. They hadn’t talked much once they’d settled at the table with the books. Sam wanted to copy as much as he could given the time limit they had and that he’d be unable to conveniently come back and double check.

He’d felt Dean’s eyes on him any number of times while they worked, Dean also copying out what Sam told him to, though he bitched softly about it under his breath. Sam had ignored it. He knew why Dean kept looking at him and he’d explain later. They needed to focus now. The rest could wait.

For all Karen was gruff and still faintly suspicious when she finally let them out, gazing at the hefty stack of copies they both carried with a raised eyebrow, she kept her word. She was prompt at the four hour mark, and though she was again carrying her shotgun, she didn’t overtly threaten them. When Dean had given her a cool questioning gaze she’d shrugged.

“Can’t be too careful .”

After she’d locked the place back up, she looked at them both. “Find what you were lookin’ for?” It was curiosity, not prying and Sam could tell the difference. She might be deeply curious, but not enough to press. Sam had nodded and given her a tired smile before hesitating, gazing at her.

“I’d think about moving all this stuff to an underground bunker if you can. The wards are good, I’ll give you that. But the building isn’t indestructible and with what you have in there… might be a thought.”

She’d studied him, eyes serious and intent, hands on her shotgun firming up just a bit. “I’ll take it under consideration. Think you boys should be movin’ along now.”

Sam had shrugged and turned, Dean following him back to the car. Part of him wanted to warn her about anyone coming around and asking about them in the next few days, but mostly he wanted to get someplace so he could peruse what they’d found without the paranoid conviction they were being watched. He also wanted to get away from the wards which had been a steady buzzing hum in the back of his mind, like an itch he couldn’t reach to scratch. Ignoring it had taken effort and he’d clearly felt it more than Dean had. Karen, he was certain, could take care of herself.

They finally found a place with a room, and someplace that wasn’t closed that would deliver and Sam settled on the bed, slowly laying out certain pages he’d kept uppermost while Dean ate.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to explain why we made all those copies and didn’t bother looking for translations? And how, without them, you even knew what to copy and what to ignore?” Dean’s voice was gruff and Sam glanced over to the other bed where his brother was sitting and watching him through narrowed eyes. The gold flecks in his green eyes were slightly more intense.

Sam sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t need the translations,” he said evenly. He held Dean’s gaze, didn’t look away, watching as the info settled into his brother’s head.

“You can _read_ this shit? It’s not in any language I’ve ever even seen, Sam. How the hell can you read it?”

Sam sighed softly and slid off the bed, retrieved the book he’d kept with them and held it out to Dean.

“Open it.”

Dean frowned before taking the book reluctantly. He held it, staring at Sam a long moment before he opened it and glanced down at the pages. Sam eased himself back down on the bed watching his brother.

“What, exactly, am I looking for here?”

“Just focus on it for a minute, Dean.” Sam soundly faintly exasperated as he turned back to the pages he’d been laying out carefully. Not giving his brother any other hints. He didn’t figure he’d have to, not the way things had been working ever since the Hellhounds had first appeared.

He sensed more than saw Dean’s frown, felt his eyes heavy on him for a long moment before Dean grunted softly and looked back at the book. Felt rather than saw when comprehension slowly settled on his brother. “That book is written in the same language. My guess is it’s some demon language.” Sam paused. “And I could understand it the moment I opened the book.” Added softly.

Dean slammed the book shut and dropped it next to him. “Doesn’t mean anything.” His words were short as he stood up, paced angrily over to their bags to retrieve his flask.

Sam snorted and looked up. “Oh yeah. It doesn’t mean anything at all that I can read a language I had never seen before in my life and that is likely a demonic language. That, incidentally, you can also understand once you focus. Doesn’t mean a damn thing at all.”

Sam watched his brother open the flask and tip it back, taking a long swallow before pacing back over the bed, dropping down and glaring at him. “I _mean_ it doesn’t mean anything we hadn’t already suspected.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Dean, do you have any clue at all what any of this even means? I mean _really_ means? The Hellhounds? The… powers. You sharing them. All of it.”

Dean returned his gaze. “Thought that’s what we came here to figure the fuck out.”

Sam blew out an agitated breath. “Only demons and maybe angles can see Hellhounds, Dean. Not even souls bound for Hell because of a Crossroads deal can _see_ Hellhounds. Hear them, yes. But not _see_ them. But we _both_ can, and could from the moment they showed up. Or don’t you remember asking me that the first night?”

Dean shrugged and Sam saw uneasiness flit across his face. “Someone had to have been wrong, then, clearly. Since we’re neither demons nor angels and we can see them just fine.”

“No, Dean,” Sam said with exaggerated patience. “They weren’t wrong. Not even psychics with second sight can actually _see_ Hellhounds. There are apparently spells than can let you see them temporarily. But to see them without them… _humans_ can’t do it. Not like we can.” The emphasis was deliberate.

“What are you saying, Sam?” Dean’s voice was a quiet challenge as though he was daring Sam to say what both of them had been wondering but neither of them had dared to say out loud.

Sam grabbed one of the pages and held it up. “Lucifer’s heir is born human but when he awakens and embraces his power his humanity is slowly consumed because he’s meant to rule in Hell.” The words were sharper and colder than Sam intended as he thrust the page at Dean. “Not a literal translation but it’s the general gist.”

Dean blinked, suddenly going pale as Sam’s words sunk in. He frowned and made a grab for the page, staring at it. “This can’t be right,” he muttered softly as he skimmed it, not even bothering to comment again on the fact that neither of them should even be able to _read_ what it said.

Sam shoved down a hysterical laugh. “Oh, I think it’s damn right.” He waved a hand over what he’d laid out. “There are any number of corroborations. A hint of why the demon Azazel did what he did and what he was looking for. An idea of who’s orders he was acting on. And why Lilith was trying to kill me so intently after his death.” He didn’t bother to explain Azazel was the demon Dean had killed, the demon who’d bled in his mouth. He figured Dean would pick that up loud and clear.

Dean’s head came up, so pale his freckles were standing out and Sam almost felt bad for dumping it so abruptly. “You aren’t evil, Sammy.”

“I don’t think it _matters_ , Dean!” Sam stopped when the words came out so forcefully. Took a breath and let it out slowly. Continued with more calm than he actually felt. “Think about it, Dean. Most people who make deals aren’t evil either. They _still_ go to Hell and if Ruby was right, and looking at all of this I don’t think she lied, they _still_ become demons. I don’t even think it’s so much the torture that turns them, it’s just a means to an end. ANY human soul exposed to Hell continuously will turn, Dean. Good OR bad. Evil people might turn faster, but once in Hell everyone is equally exposed. It doesn’t _matter_ what kind of person you were when you were alive or why you end up there.”

Watching Dean’s face tighten, Sam almost regretted bringing Ruby up. But she was the only demon they’d had any kind of regular interactions with that hadn’t involved trying to kill them. And she had been helpful. But she had lied about being able to free Dean from his deal and once they’d both known the truth of it they’d pretty much had nothing to do with her. Hadn’t even _seen_ her for a couple of months. Not since the demon who had been turning suburban housewives into witches to collect their souls.

Frankly Sam had been almost relieved. Ruby had unsettled him and not just because some of the things she said made too much sense. He’d felt like they’d been on a slippery slope ever since his desperation to save Dean allowed him to trust her even a little. And even if she had helped them out, had proven not all demons only wanted death and destruction, that there were far more shades of grey than he’d imagined, it had still unsettled him. Since Dean had only been grudgingly willing to accept her help to begin with, Sam hadn’t given much thought to avoiding her once he knew she couldn’t help. And after finding out about the soul bond from Missouri it just hadn’t seemed to matter one way or another.

The fact still remained Ruby was a demon and while she hadn’t had any hesitation about killing and was far looser in her morals than they were, she’d still _helped_ them when she hadn’t had to. Sam didn’t doubt she had likely had an ulterior motive in it, and after reading everything he had tonight he was starting to figure out what it might have been, but she’d still _helped_ and the only lie she’d told outright had been about saving Dean.

Not even he and Dean were that honest. He knew it. And so did Dean.

Sam looked back at the paperwork spread out and shook his head. “There is _nothing_ in any of this that states Lucifer’s heir is an evil person, only that he was born human. That’s _it_. Once Azazel bled in my mouth, I could have been a monk in a Catholic monastery devoting my life to God and I don’t think it would have mattered.” He said it all softly, resigned. “And it was only _meant_ to be me. There is _nothing_ at all in any of this that mentions anything at all about what’s currently happening with us.”

“But that’s good right?” Sam glanced over to see a spark of hope in Dean’s eyes. “It means not everything is just written in stone with us not having any choices. We’ve already changed some of it, right? So it doesn’t mean you don’t have any choice about ruling Hell, right? You don’t have to follow the demon’s plans or anything.”

“It doesn’t change the facts, Dean. Whether or not I wanna lead an army, whether or not I wanna rule Hell, the _fact_ is there is no reversing this. There never was.” Saying it out loud sounded so final, but at the same time there was a little relief to just get it out and not have it clawing in his brain.

Dean snorted. “Sam, did either of us really think you were going to be able to reverse this? Once it was clear it was bleeding over to me?”

Sam made a face. He’d harbored a hope, way deep down, that maybe they could have. Despite what he could feel changing in himself, despite watching how things had changed with his brother. He’d still hoped. Until tonight.

“What else did you find? I doubt everything you found and had me copy was solely about this.”

Sam had to appreciate the effort to prod him out of the corner he felt he’d been painted into. The seething anger building over the fact he hadn’t _asked for_ or _wanted_ any of this was on slow burn and what he really wanted was to take it out on someone, anyone. He needed a distraction from the need to find a target to vent against.

He shoved a hand through his hair and huffed. “We don’t need the Colt to kill Lilith. Apparently Lucifer’s heir is the only one who has the power to kill her. So… at least there’s that.” He glanced up in time to see a dark light flicker in his Dean’s eyes.

“Good. I really wanna see that bitch die.”

And while it had pretty much been the point since learning Lilith had acquired Dean’s contract and Sam wanted her dead every bit as much, something in Dean’s voice and eyes gave him pause. Made him wonder how long, exactly, either of them were going to manage to hang on to their humanity.

“Finding her is going to be the trick.”

“What about the Hellhounds?”

Sam blinked, staring at Dean in surprise.

“They were hers, right? Which means they have her scent. And you said they never lose a scent once they have it. Which means they should be able to find her wherever the hell she is, right?”

Sam stared for a little longer. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. But Dean was right. And the Hounds wouldn’t have to rely on tracking her the way hunters were limited to.

“That… might actually work,” he said slowly, turning the idea over. In the whole time the Hounds had been with them, there hadn’t been any inclination in any of them to abandon them. Knowing what he knew now, he figured they, at least, saw him as their rightful ruler. However much that sat uncomfortably on him. Which was much less than it had been when this had started. The point is, they’d been loyal from the moment they chose _not_ to rip Dean to shreds and drag his soul to Hell.

“So… maybe we focus on killing Lilith first. Then we sort out the rest.”

Sam gave his brother a sour look. “It’s not like you to be the voice of reason. Stop it.”

Dean snorted a laugh and stood, gathering up all the pages Sam had spread out on the bed before setting them aside and flopping down in their place. “Drives you nuts whenever I point out something you haven’t considered, doesn’t it?”

Sam watched him as he gathered up the pages, not attempting to stop him. Staring at them wasn’t going to change what he already knew. There was no going back to how things were, not now. There was only going forward and trying to deal. “It kinda does, yeah.”

“Maybe it’s the whole soul bond thing. Maybe I’m getting some of your reasonableness or something.”

“Yeah, Dean. I’m sure that’s what it is.” He finally gave Dean a tired smile despite the mocking in his tone. “Fine. We focus on killing Lilith. Once we do that we can try and sort out the rest.”

Even as Dean grinned and pulled him in for a kiss, Sam couldn’t help but feel it wasn’t going to be that easy. Not the killing Lilith part. The idea of using the Hounds to track her was actually brilliant. Killing Lilith was just a matter of when not if now and he knew it. It was all the rest he was worried about. The changes in them both and his being meant to rule in Hell. They wouldn’t be able to ignore it forever, especially in light of the soulmate and soul bond thing.

But Dean had a point. None of that was in anything he’d read about Lucifer’s heir. So maybe they had more wiggle room than he had hoped when he’d first read all of it. He still couldn’t help but feel they were missing something. And if Dean’s fingers weren’t sliding into his hair and his kisses getting more insistent and urgent, maybe Sam would have tried to track it down.

Instead he put it on a mental shelf and let Dean distract him. One way or another they’d find out if there was more going on. He just hoped, as Dean pressed him back on the bed, hands sliding under his shirt to stroke over bare skin, it wouldn’t bite them in the ass as so many other things had. But really, how much worse could it get than being slated to be the next ruler of Hell?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2-17-2017
> 
> I managed two chapters today instead of just one. At this point I think I can finish this fic within four chapters. But I will manage to finish it in the next month, which will end this series. Thanks everyone who have been reading and watching for updates and especially for the comments. Here's hoping I manage to stay semi-regular!


	8. Chapter 8

Stumbling over a hunt hadn’t been any part of their plan. As a matter of fact, as Dean was looking at the newspaper he’d gotten with breakfast and mulled over the tidbits he’d picked up at lunch, he realized he and Sam hadn’t been on a regular hunt in months.

The last hunt they’d tried was the salt and burn before they’d gone to see Missouri and it hadn’t gone well. Adjusting to and accepting the reality of the soul bond and both of them going to Hell had been enough to handle. When Dean had been sure he was the only one going, taking insane risks hadn’t seemed nearly as bad. Knowing it would have a much more immediate consequence for his brother had been more than he wanted to think about.

But they were past his due date for his contract by weeks now. With five Hellhounds in tow and dealing with subtle (and not so subtle) changes in them both, Dean wondered if maybe a regular hunt might help normalize things.

There was still Lilith. However they were at an impasse with that for now. Sam had ascertained the Hellhounds would be able to track her… the problem was keeping up with them. The Hounds didn’t think in terms of roads and fences and such like people did. They could keep up with the Impala and had stayed near the roads because that’s where Sam and Dean were. And the pack of Hounds seemed to believe Sam and Dean were their charges, therefore stayed close.

Tracking Lilith, however, would be all up to them and they weren’t going to consider whether or not a vehicle could follow where they went. Hellhounds apparently weren’t limited to traveling on, as Sam said, ‘the material plane’. Neither were demons, which they’d proven far too often. But whatever changes the brothers had experienced so far, that was a limit they still had to contend with. And, Sam had pointed out, Lilith might not even be topside. Until they could solve that conundrum they were idling.

Dean glanced up from the newspaper and looked over at Sam. His brother was installed at the small table and writing out more careful, patient copies of everything they’d found in Karen Miller’s library, along with translations. He’d been quietly focused all day, eating breakfast without even realizing what he was putting in his mouth and completely ignoring lunch. Dean could feel a brooding anger smoldering deep inside his brother, a building resentment the more he read over those notes.

In some ways Dean would rather Sam felt pissed than guilty. Guilt made Sam hesitate, made him doubt. Anger pushed him to act. He knew his brother well enough to know that much and had seen it play out any number of times. True, sometimes his actions in anger had been impulsive but Sam hadn’t screwed up anymore in a rage than Dean had.

It was the darkness in the anger that worried Dean as he studied his brother. Of the two of them, Sam had always been the one more willing to give people the benefit of the doubt. The one to look a little deeper and try to offer people hope. Including the things they hunted. It was part of what made him who he was and why people trusted that dimpled smile of his. Sam was earnest and compassionate in a way Dean wasn’t.

Not that Dean didn’t care. He did. Just… not the same way Sam did. But the darkness in the anger he could feel in his brother seemed the kind that would lash out impartially and not care who it hurt in the process. Dean wasn’t worried for himself. The one thing he was sure of was his brother wouldn’t hurt him. He wasn’t as sure about the rest of the world anymore.

Sam was holding it in right now, but Dean figured him having a valid target to vent the anger against would be better than letting it flare up unexpectedly. Especially now. Dean had a good sense that either of them going off in a rage now could cause far more damage. He glanced back at the newspaper. Maybe a hunt wasn’t a bad idea. For either of them.

“Hey, Sam.” He slid off the bed and walked over to where Sam was focused intently on his task. Dean dropped into the chair next to him. “Feel up to a hunt?”

Sam paused and glanced up at Dean. The metallic gold flecks caught the light and shimmered but there was a darkness behind the bright color, like a coiled nest of vipers. Sam blinked and the impression was gone, leaving Dean to wonder if he’d imagined it.

Sam looked faintly confused as he frowned, sitting back though not dropping the pen in his hand. “A hunt?”

Dean set the newspaper on the table. “We’re stuck on the Lilith thing. Obviously. Since we’re already _here,_ I figured maybe we could look into this.” He pointed at the article. “Been some grave robberies over the last few months. Then last week, someone saw the groundskeeper of the cemetery in two places at one time. That I heard getting lunch. But it was only the once. Since then he’s been reclusive. Still does his job but… different, you know?”

Dean waited as Sam glanced at the newspaper still wearing the frown. Felt a small surge of triumph when he finally set the pen down and grabbed the newspaper, skimming the article. “They were mostly new graves,” Sam said softly. “Fresh burials.”

Dean fought a grin as he felt Sam’s attention shift focus. He knew they needed to figure out what, exactly, was going on with them, but the longer Sam pored over those pages the more distant he felt and Dean figured it was time for a break. Besides, whatever the hell was different with them now, it didn’t mean they couldn’t still do what they did best.

“Figured we could at least check it out. Could be nothing, but… check out what it says about the bodies.” He tried not to sound too excited.

Sam huffed anyway, giving him an exasperated glance. “Yeah, I noticed. With the first few bodies, the whole corpse wasn’t taken, just parts. Then whole corpses started disappearing. You could be a little less gleeful about this.”

“But _zombies_ , Sam!”

Sam snorted and set the newspaper down. “We have encountered _one_ zombie and she was killing people not stealing bodies from graves. And it wasn’t exactly easy to take her down. Why don’t we hope for something a little less difficult?”

Dean had already gone to retrieve their dad’s journal. He had mixed feelings about it, now, after everything they’d learned recently. But the man had known what he was doing as far as hunting went and it was the best resource they had with them.

“Clearly not vamps or werewolves. Never heard of either robbing graves.” He dropped next to Sam and flipped open the journal, feeling Sam lean over to watch him flip through the pages. “So far, no one living has gone missing.”

“Has anyone said anything about seeing any of the recently disturbed deceased wandering around town?”

Dean paused in his page turning. “Not that I heard, but I _was_ only out to get lunch. What are you thinking?”

Sam pulled the journal from him and flipped a few more pages before turning it back to show Dean. “Ghouls. Scavengers, mostly. Feeding on the dead. But they can also take on the form of… well whoever they last ate. If we’re talking grave robberies with missing corpses, we should start there.” He frowned. “What bothers me is the story about the groundskeeper being in two places at once. It doesn’t add up for ghouls, even if they can assume the shape of who they consumed.”

Dean glanced over the pages Sam showed him. “It’s a place to start. Better than nothing. And if it turns out he’s clean we can go from there.” He paused. “Probably should sharpen the machetes.” He grinned at Sam. “Be good to do something easy, huh?”

Sam snorted softly. “Sure, Dean.”

Dean stood. “It’ll be fun,” he said as he clapped Sam on the shoulder before going to retrieve the blades and the whetstone.

Several hours later he was revising his opinion.

First, they’d had to explain to Sanguis and Padmé that the Hounds weren’t doing the actual hunting. None of the Hounds were happy about seeing Sam and Dean decked out with machetes and clearly going off into danger, but Padmé and Sanguis were the only two who directly objected. Until Sam got firm with them.

Dean hadn’t actually figured the pack of Hellhounds or their seeming insistence on keeping them both safe into the hunting side of things. He realized it might be good thing to have a talk with them and explain a few things. Which almost felt odd but they were clearly more than huge demonic dogs. They understood way more than any dog Dean had encountered. Uncannily so. He recalled the way they’d listened intently back at that rest stop. He still wasn’t sure _why_ the Hounds seemed so intent on keeping him and Sam safe.

Once they’d gotten the Hounds to understand they should stay back unless either of them called for them, and dealt with Padmé’s reproachful eyes (she was every bit as bad as Sam), they had to find where the groundskeeper lived. Which was easy enough. But as the sun set, Dean could tell Sam was more on edge than he’d thought he was. Intently focused on the hunt in a way that was almost disturbing. It was different from what Dean was used to in Sam.

Sam was a damn good hunter. And once on a hunt he was committed. But it had always been less about killing the bad thing than protecting or saving people with his brother. As they left the car parked some distance away to approach the residence (on the cemetery property, that was a little gruesome) Dean could tell _this_ time Sam was all about the killing part of the hunt.

It was just different enough from what he was used to with his brother that it kept Dean’s focus from being where it should have been. Paying more attention to Sam, his predatory prowl and the darkness rising in him than his surroundings as they quietly broke into the house. Which would have been less of a problem if they hadn’t underestimated what they were hunting.

Because the groundskeeper’s house had been turned into a lair for not one but _three_ ghouls. A mother and her two offspring, one of which was wearing the groundskeepers form. They had apparently graduated from grave robbing to outright killing, since the body they found the three of them snacking on belonged to the waitress Dean had flirted lightly with just earlier that day. The smell alone meant hers wasn’t the only body in the place.

Watching Sam launch himself at the first ghoul who rushed him without even a hesitation might have been a little more impressive if Dean hadn’t found himself landing on his back, machete sliding across the floor as his breath was forcefully expelled and ghouls number two and three each gleefully sunk teeth into his leg. If he’d had a moment to be embarrassed he would have been.

He swore fiercely and kicked at one of them, ignoring the sudden pain as the teeth ripped through his flesh, machete forgotten as he tried to twist free of the creatures. It was easier than he expected, and clearly the ghouls hadn’t expected the kicks to pack as much punch as they did either. The second kick dislodged one of them and the third sent the other flying backwards. Much farther than even a kick with his full force behind it should have been able to send him, much less one where he was on the ground on his back.

Dean didn’t bother to take the time to analyze his newfound strength, scrambling after the machete and ignoring the pain in his leg, still swearing and wondering how much damage they’d done. His hands closed around the handle of the machete and he scrambled to his feet, turning in time to see one of them launching back at him. He didn’t hesitate, just shifted, firmed his grip and swung, watching as the head separated cleanly from the shoulders and flew across the room with a spray of blood as the body collapsed. Dean glanced around quickly, not registering the relative silence at first, looking for Sam.

Who was just finishing neatly eviscerating the second ghoul. Dean took in the sight quickly, glanced around again and once he realized he and Sam were the only things still breathing in the place turned his attention back to his brother. Didn’t let himself think or wonder why his brother was busy removing entrails when beheading was all it took to kill a ghoul. Another quick glance confirmed the head was gone and the first ghoul was every bit as dead.

“Sam! It’s dead, man.”

Sam stopped and swung to look at him. His eyes were full on glowing molten gold and Dean could feel a dark nimbus of power draped over his brother. Could almost see it against the darkness of the room. He still didn’t even pause. Just took a few steps closer, one hand held out to him.

“I’m _fine_ , Sammy. Just… chewed on. Okay? Everything else is dead.”

Sam’s glazed gaze shifted from his face to his leg and he shook his head as though to clear it. He glanced at the corpse of the ghoul and dismissed it contemptuously before turning back to Dean. He came over and crouched down in front of him, taking in the shredded jeans’ leg soaked with blood and _growled_ softly. In other circumstances, the growl would have been sexy as hell. On some level, Dean still found it sexy as hell. Wildly inappropriate, he supposed and tried to ignore a flurry of random thoughts that had better times and places to be running through his head.

“We need to get you cleaned up.” Sam’s voice was still low and rumbly. Possessive in a way Dean had gotten used to lately, and pissed in a way he was still adjusting to. The anger had everything to do with something daring to hurt his brother and there were some days when it still surprised Dean how personally Sam took it when something hurt him.

Sam’s fingers were running lightly and deftly over his leg. Dean flinched as they brushed over the torn flesh the ghouls’ teeth had left behind, and finally frowned, replaying the moment he’d kicked them both off of him. Glanced over his shoulder looking for the head of the third, which had hit a wall and rolled before settling, leaving a bloody dent behind it.

“We need to burn the bodies _first_ , then get me cleaned up.”

Sam growled softly again as he looked up at Dean before standing. “The Hounds can take care of the bodies. We’re going back to get your leg cleaned up.” The look he gave his brother clearly said he wasn’t arguing about this.

Dean blinked at the suggestion then huffed. “Fine.” Being reminded of the Hounds however had him looking at his leg and thinking of Padmé’s reproachful eyes. The bitch was not going to be happy he got hurt.

Sam snorted softly. “I think she’ll accept apologies but I doubt she’ll leave your side for days after this.” Dean glared at Sam’s response to words he hadn’t even said out loud even as he had to admit his brother was probably right. He swore softly again.

Sam gave him a tight smile as he put the machete away, the glow easing away from his eyes and the feel of power around him settling before offering Dean a shoulder to lean on.

Dean almost refused, but now the adrenaline was wearing off and Sam seemed more like himself, he was realizing the ghouls’ teeth had done more damage than he’d thought initially. With a scowl he accepted the help, swearing fiercely under his breath the whole way back to the Impala.

He’d ask Sam _later_ what the hell had happened with him. But he couldn’t quite shake the image of his baby brother eviscerating the ghoul corpse or the dark glee that had seemed to swirl through him under the rage as he did so. Or the surge of satisfaction Dean had felt briefly in himself.


	9. Chapter 9

The hunt wasn’t a failure. They’d found, albeit accidentally, the ghouls and dispatched them, but Dean had gotten _hurt_ and it was bothering Sam more than usual. It wasn’t the first time and likely wouldn’t be the last time one of them was injured. Cleaning wounds, popping dislocated shoulders back into place, even stitches had become par for the course. Sam didn’t like it but it was a fact of life for them.

He had a vague sense he was somehow to blame. He’d noticed Dean’s attention had seemed split more than usual but he’d been intent on wanting to kill something. When he’d seen Dean go down he’d simply stopped thinking. He’d been blinded by an intensely possessive rage that anyone dared to touch what was _his_. It had been far more intense than when the Hounds had shown up to collect him.

Sam knew he could be possessive. He tried not to show it often. Was usually good about keeping it deep down. Even when their relationship had turned intimate, Sam had managed to keep his possessive instincts in check. But ever since he’d embraced the power within him, it had gotten harder. The underlying thought that Dean was _his_ to love and protect kept rearing up.

Maybe if he hadn’t been so focused on venting the growing anger in him he’d have noticed what was keeping Dean’s focus off task. But a lot had happened in a short period of time and Sam had never liked feeling painted into a corner and having his choices taken away. He hadn’t exactly had a chance to come to terms with what he’d done to keep Dean with him, much less the implications of it starting to become clearer. Hadn’t had time to just be upset over what they’d learned about their _dad_ much less anything else. Had been trying to just hold it together and fight the guilt that he’d somehow cursed Dean to his fate.

Copying out the notes of what they’d found in Karen Miller’s lore library had pushed the guilt far back and poked at the anger under it. He knew it. Knew when Dean suggested a hunt his brother was trying to give him a target that was fair game to take it out on. Having to talk to the Hounds before they’d even set out had only underscored just how much had changed. It had left him feeling off balance and more on edge.

As he cleaned Dean’s leg and bandaged the bites, he tried not to think about the way things had gone down back at the groundskeeper’s house or the way Dean had looked at him. Not with fear or loathing (thank God for that, if he was still even allowed to think it) but there was… concern in the eyes that watched him as he put away the med kit and start pacing the room.

The hunt kept replaying in his head. It had been over relatively quickly for a hunt. And a part of Sam felt like it had too quick. Had wanted to draw it out and toy with the creatures and likely would have if Dean hadn’t gone down. He wasn’t even sure what urge had pushed him to the extremes of what he’d done to the second ghoul. He knew as well as Dean did they’d only had to behead the things. But it hadn’t felt like enough, especially after it had sunk its teeth into his brother.

“We need to talk to someone who has more of a fucking clue than we do about… all of this,” Sam said suddenly, turning to look at Dean. “I mean we’ve been pretty much just feeling our way since the Hounds showed up but it’s not good enough! Not anymore!”

“Sammy…” Dean started, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“No! Dean, we have no fucking clue what we’re doing here. Finding cryptic passages in an old book does not explain the reality of any of this.” Sam shoved hair away from his face and huffed. “We’re feeling our way through this blind. There has to be _someone_ who’s neutral who could tell us _something_ more than what we know!”

“Who, Sam? We don’t exactly have a lot of friends.  I wouldn’t trust any hunter right now. Who are we supposed to ask? A demon?” Dean’s voice was derisive.

“We might not have a choice! All of this has to do with Hell and demons! They might be the only ones who have any answers at all.”

Dean gave him a slashing look. “Yeah, because they’re just so trustworthy. They’ve been doing nothing but try to kill us, Sam!”

“That’s not true for all of them,” Sam said reluctantly, dropping onto the other bed.

Dean growled softly. “No. We are not calling that bitch.”

“She’s helped us before, Dean. And she didn’t have to.” He didn’t like defending Ruby when the way she’d managed to earn his trust was based on a lie. But she was the only demon they really knew besides Meg, and Sam was less inclined to try and track her down than Ruby.

Being possessed by her made him far more leery of Meg than any other demon.

Their track record with demons wasn’t any better than with most other supernats, though. If the demons weren’t actually trying to kill them, they’d been more than willing to return the favor. But there had to be a few of them out there who had some kind of clue what being Lucifer’s heir really meant and would be willing to deal.

“Dean… we can’t ignore this. You keep looking at me like I’ve grown another head. You got _hurt_. And I feel like somehow that was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dean said, but something in his tone sounded off and when Sam glanced at him he was looking away. Finally he sighed and added, “I wasn’t paying attention. And _that_ wasn’t _your_ fault. I know better.”

And he did know better, which was why Sam was pretty sure the reason Dean hadn’t been paying attention had to do with him. It usually did.

“It does not,” Dean said immediately, glaring at him.

“You always think you have to protect me, which is half of why you got hurt when we were younger. Or you’re worrying about me.” His eyes narrowed. “Which I think is what happened tonight.”

Dean stared back, conflicted. He opened his mouth then snapped it shut. “I wasn’t _worried_ about you.”

“Then what?” Sam’s voice was a challenge.

“You were just… different, Sam. That’s all. It threw me.”

They stared at each other in silence. Finally Sam spoke. “Because I _wanted_ to kill something.” It was a flat statement, not a question.

“That’s not usually you, Sam! I mean you don’t have any problem getting the job done but you aren’t usually so focused on making something bleed. You didn’t just behead those ghouls. You completely eviscerated one of them! And you enjoyed doing it.”

The words hung in the air, not quite an accusation. There was more of a question and… a guilty admission in them and Sam tilted his head, studying his brother. Dean wasn’t _wrong_. He had enjoyed it in the moment. Sam felt like if he wasn’t careful it could become more than something he had enjoyed in the moment. And Dean was right, it wasn’t like him, and he knew it.

Dean’s face was flushed and guilt flashed through his eyes before he looked away.

“You enjoyed it, too.” Sam’s voice was soft as he watched Dean squirm. Flashed back to the demon attack on them back in Montana and the same echo of dark glee he’d felt in his brother then. He hadn’t been sure if Dean had noticed it or cared. Maybe he was wrong.

He sighed heavily. “And that… is exactly why we need to find someone who knows the fuck about what’s happening to me. To _us_. Or do you wanna just go completely off the rails here?”

“Might be a little late for that, don’t you think?” Dean’s voice was caustic as he glared at the window before turning it on Sam. “Five Hellhounds? Sending messages via demon telegram to Lilith? Feeling power off books, for Christ’s sake, and wards that scratch at the back of your skull? Don’t think I missed that one, either. I think we’ve already dived right off the rails with this.”

Sam fell silent. Looked away. “Still don’t regret this?” It wasn’t a fair question and he knew it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He bit down on his lip. He couldn’t help but ask, fair or not. Wasn’t sure what he’d do or how he’d react if Dean did regret it, now they knew there was no turning back.

He wasn’t expecting Dean to suddenly drop next to him and grab his face in a fierce grip, forcefully turning his head to stare into his eyes. The green was glowing faintly with the same gold Sam knew his own eyes sometimes had and were fierce. “Don’t do that. I said I don’t regret it and I mean it now as much as I did when this started. You could go full on Son of Sam here and I wouldn’t regret it or walk the fuck away. My _point_ is there isn’t exactly a fucking manual for this. Whatever _this_ is. You think I’m not aware that any hunter other than Bobby would try to kill us both now? You think I don’t understand we don’t have the luxury of claiming to be completely human anymore? I get it Sam. I feel it as much as you do.”

He finally loosened his grip on Sam’s face and Sam felt a pain in his heart. Maybe Dean didn’t regret but he still did. Likely always would.

“I just… forgive me for not wanting to go trusting a demon, okay? Look at our track record, man.”

“I know,” Sam said softly. “But what other choice do we have? I’m not saying we _trust_ a demon. Certainly not any random demon. But we need to know more than we do. You can’t deny that, not after tonight.” He wasn’t only thinking of his own behavior. He’d registered the increased strength in Dean’s kicks back at the ghouls’ lair. Even if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been able to miss it in Dean’s fingers when he’d first grabbed his face just moment ago.

Dean’s fingers slipped from Sam’s face and he was quiet for a moment. Brooding like he didn’t usually do. Sam felt a surge of uneasiness before Dean finally sighed heavily and reached down to the bandage Sam had wrapped around his leg. Sam made a sound of protest as Dean started unwrapping it that died as his brother’s skin was exposed.

Sam stared with a frown at his leg and the bites that were already half healed just in the time since he’d bandaged Dean’s leg. And they’d been deep. Gouges that couldn’t be easily stitched and should have taken days and days to heal over.

“Demons don’t heal.” It was the first thing that came to mind and he said it before he even looked up at Dean, still frowning, eyes confused. It made logical sense in his head, since his assumption after reading the whole bit about Lucifer’s heir losing his humanity was that he and Dean were turning into _some_ kind of demons.

“Duh. I know that. But humans don’t heal this fast either. So…” he sighed, resigned. “Yeah, I think we need to find someone who knows something. I don’t know that a demon is going to be our best bet because whatever is happening with us? I don’t think it’s as straightforward as either of us thought it was. But… you might have a point in lieu of _every-freaking-thing_ else.”

Sam’s eyes dropped back down to Dean’s leg. Flicked over to his stack of notes sitting neatly on the table where he’d left them. Then looked back to his brother.

“Bobby?” He offered it deferentially. They hadn’t exactly been as forthcoming about things as they could have been with the older hunter, not sure how their surrogate father would have taken what they’d learned since it all seemed tied to Hell. But Sam didn’t know anyone else who knew as much about these kinds of things, and usually if Bobby didn’t know he at least knew where to look.

However Sam couldn’t shake the feeling it was still going to come down to finding a demon who knew something about what he’d found in those books. Especially since he doubted anyone other than Karen had copies of those particular ones.

Dean dropped the wad of bandages on the bed behind them. Looked at Sam grudgingly. “We should at least fill him in. On all of it. But…” he paused and Sam could tell he didn’t want to continue. “…if you can figure out how to get in touch with Ruby, I won’t try to shoot her on sight. _If_ the Hounds will even let her anywhere near us. They haven’t exactly responded well to any demon in our vicinity.”

“They _were_ trying to kill us,” Sam pointed out. Not as forcefully as he could. Dean had just agreed to let him try and contact Ruby. That was a major concession from his brother and he wasn’t going to rock the boat right now.

Dean grunted and scrubbed a hand over his face again. He looked tired. “Tomorrow. We can do it tomorrow. I just… I just wanna sleep right now, okay?”

Sam sighed softly, feeling apprehensive. He wasn’t looking forward to making the call to Bobby, truth told. He was pretty sure he and Dean were going to end up pushing the old hunter too far one day. And there was no way to soften any of this. He glanced back at Dean’s rapidly healing leg and fought down a sense of bewilderment.

They didn’t have a choice now. Bobby, at least, they _knew_ without a doubt was on their side. For now, at least.

He thought he’d known what was going on but now… he just wasn’t sure. And there was one thing Sam knew for certain. Not knowing was always what screwed them over in the end.

“Fine. Tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a little longer than I had planned to make these last updates. But good news is i now have a beta reader! yay! the other good news is I already have the next few chapters written, so once she has a go at them I can get them up as well. hopefully within the next several days.


	10. Chapter 10

Insistent pawing at their door at too damn early pulled Dean from the depths of sleep. Since Sam didn’t feel overly concerned as he slid out of the bed and Dean didn’t pick up anything that screamed danger from the Hounds, he turned over, tempted to pull the blanket over his head.

He didn’t usually sleep so hard. Sam had theorized just before Dean had passed out it had something to do with the rapid healing of his leg. Dean didn’t care much about Sam’s theories and as long as no one was trying to kill them he’d just as soon go back to sleep for another hour.

The startled surprise from Sam when he opened the door, however, banished the idea and he sat up, blinking blearily. He frowned as Padmé shouldered her way into the room as if she belonged there, and then blinked a few more times before rubbing his eyes to look again. Because the Hound wasn’t alone.

She was herding three uneasy half-grown Hellhounds. She tossed Dean a look that was half pleading and half defiant as she did so. Dean looked at Sam, still standing by the open door, who looked as baffled as he did, before turning his focus back to the Hellhounds in the room.

Padmé sat down near the bed. She gave Dean one penetrating onceover before glancing at the young Hounds. She had not, in fact, been happy Dean had returned from the hunt wounded and had shown an incredible ability to mother hen for a canine denizen of the underworld.

The three new Hounds stayed clustered in the center of the room. Unlike the five who’d adopted the brothers, they were neither black nor built along the lines of Great Dane meets Irish Wolfhound. They were stocky, looked like oversized Pit Bulls and were bone white. They had a line of spiny scales down the center of their backs to their whip-like tails. If the paws were anything to go by, they’d end up close to Padmé’s size once full grown. Their eyes were also white with a faint blue cast to them and they had far more scars and fresh wounds than Dean figured even half-grown Hounds should have.

“You gotta be shittin’ me,” Dean grumbled as he looked back to Padmé. “Where did _they_ come from?”

Padmé gave a credible impression of a shrug before glancing over her shoulder briefly at Sam. She studied the nervous newcomers again before looking back to Dean. The blend of pleading and defiance had returned to her ember-red eyes. Dean stared back in disbelief.

“We are not actually a wayward Hound care center. Don’t they belong somewhere?” She couldn’t seriously be asking to _keep_ them.

He glanced at Sam by the door, still cracked open rather than closed. He was staring out into the early morning with a puzzled frown which got Dean’s attention more than the half-grown Hounds in the room. He set his feet on the floor and looked at Padmé as he stood.

“We’ll discuss where they came from and where they’re going in a minute,” he muttered. He looked back to Sam. “What is it?”

Sam didn’t even glance at him and Dean got the sense he was feeling out around the area. “I don’t know, exactly. Sanguis and the others are disturbed but not upset. I can’t tell why-“ 

He stopped abruptly and his frown intensified, more irritated than puzzled. He huffed in annoyance before glancing back to Dean. “We’ve got company,” he said flatly.

Dean immediately started looking for a weapon, pausing only because neither Padmé nor Sam looked threatened. Wary… but not threatened.  Padmé herded the three youngsters away from the center of the room. The youngsters gave Dean a look that was more scared than wary and whined protest at Padmé.  She had to growl softly and employ some hard nudges to get them moving. Dean would have been more amused if he had a clue what to expect coming through the door.

Once the young Hounds had clustered near the wall, pressed close to the bed and trying to be inconspicuous, Padmé moved back to the spot they’d occupied and sat, putting herself between them and the door. And incidentally, Dean. Dean shook his head and moved to stand next to her, looking down at the top of her head. It was too early for this. “You and me are gonna have to talk,” he said to her softly. She ignored him.

Sam swung open the door, scowling now, not simply frowning as two women eased inside. They immediately stepped aside to give Sam some space as he closed the door and Dean was thankful they’d gone to bed clothed. The blonde he recognized quickly enough to find himself scowling almost as deeply as Sam was. But Sam’s gaze wasn’t on the blonde. It was fixed on the brunette, who didn’t look at all familiar to Dean. Both looked nervous when Sam closed the door and leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest. Both of them tried to cover it.

Demons, he had found, tended to get attached to their meat suits and would use them until they couldn’t anymore. But the brunette wasn’t someone he recognized immediately. Dean studied her intently, hand coming to rest on Padmé’s head. The Hound leaned against his leg in response, and the brunette smirked. Though there was wariness in her eyes there was also surprise and amusement. Her gaze flicked behind him towards the three young Hounds who had edged closer to the bed.

“They’re a peace offering. Of sorts. Saved them from becoming some random demon’s newest playthings. Not all demons appreciate Hellhounds.” The cadence of her words seemed familiar. Dean looked back and forth between her and Ruby and took in the tension between them. Combined with the scowl Sam hadn’t eased up on, Dean made an educated guess.

“Meg.” His voice was every bit as flat and unfriendly as Sam’s had been

The brunette smiled sharply. “Dean, I’m touched. You remembered me.”

Dean growled softly. He remembered her alright. The last encounter with her involved her wearing his little brother and trying to beat his face in. Sam still had a hell of a burn scar from where Bobby had dragged a hot poker across the binding link she’d branded into Sam’s skin to lock her into his body and prevent them from exorcising her.

“As much as I hate to interrupt what could be a wonderfully entertaining fight, that’s not what we’re here for.” Ruby’s voice was caustic as usual and she glared at Dean and Meg impartially.

“Then what _are_ you here for?” And never mind he’d told Sam he could try to contact her just hours previous. He’d forgotten how fast Ruby got under his skin with her attitude.

“Because word travels fast and anyone challenging Lilith gets talked about. Or didn’t you think we’d hear about Sam’s little gauntlet thrown in her general direction?” She tossed a narrow eyed gaze at Sam still leaning against the door and scowling. “I get you’re protective of your brother but you are not ready to face her.”

Sam didn’t so much as move but the air around him was suddenly heavy and threatening and his eyes shifted to molten gold. Meg’s eyebrows rose towards her hairline. Dean assumed it was her presence that had put Sam on edge. Especially considering he’d been willing to try and track down Ruby for a game of 20 questions.

“I’d heard the rumors but I didn’t think they were true. Can’t always trust everything you hear through the grapevine. But looks like Sammy’s been busy.” Meg’s voice was low and she glanced over to Dean in speculation. “Are they _all_ true?” Her tone turned insinuating.

“ _No one_ calls me Sammy but Dean.” The words were soft and cold and his eyes flashed as he gazed at Meg who took a step back and held up a placating hand.

“Fine. I got it. Sam.”

Ruby glared at Meg briefly before turning her back on the other demon and looking directly at Sam. “Look, you can think what you want about me and you can hate her as much as you like. But you’re going to need us both. This is not a game you walk into blind. Lilith has been scheming for centuries.”

Meg made wordless protest but didn’t say anything. Instead she moved over to the table and dropped into a chair, seeming content to let Ruby carry the conversation for the moment. Dean watched her rather than Ruby. He didn’t trust either of them, but they had far more bad blood between them and Meg.

“Obviously we aren’t here to hurt either of you or we’d never have made it to the door and you both know it,” Ruby continued. “You effectively vanished a while back. You made it clear you were done with me. And I didn’t come looking for you. Which, I have to tell you, hasn’t made my life any easier. I threw my lot in with you by helping you and it kind of put a price on my head.”

“Funny how I’m not feeling the sympathy, Ruby. You started this with a lie. And it was a pretty damn big one.” Sam’s voice was still colder than Dean had expected and he felt Padmé tense at his side. He stroked between her ears, still keeping an eye on Meg but his attention was split.

Meg was intently listening to the conversation. She propped her chin on her fist with an enigmatic smile on her face and kept glancing back and forth between Sam and Dean. It made Dean wonder what she was seeing that amused her.

“You wouldn’t have given me a chance if I hadn’t said that. And it wasn’t, strictly speaking, a lie. **_I_** couldn’t have saved Dean. But what I _said_ was I could help you save your brother. You weren’t exactly ready to hear you could do it on your own.” She waved an arm behind her in Dean’s general direction. “You seem to have figured it, so good on you. But you haven’t figured out much else, have you? Because if you _had_ you wouldn’t have threatened the big bad bitch.”

Sam pushing off of the door drew Dean’s eyes towards him and for a moment he forgot Meg’s existence. Sam pulled himself to his full height and the air got heavier as he took a few deliberate, stalking steps towards Ruby. The threat implicit in every line of his body should not have been as compelling as it was. “You were interested in cultivating the Boy King and currying favor with the new regime, whether that’s what you said or not. You want to throw off attitude, fine. But I’m not playing King for you.”

With the level of menace Sam was throwing off, the fact Ruby stood her ground was impressive. Dean saw tension enter her shoulders as Sam closed the distance though nothing else in her posture shifted.

“I told you before, Sam. This is war. Or are you planning to ignore all of that just because you don’t like the rules?” She had to tip her head up to meet Sam’s bright gold eyes but her voice was steady. Tension singing through her or not, she didn’t look cowed. Dean considered stepping between them but he was more far interested in seeing if Sam was going to bitch slap her. He was quietly rooting for it.

“ _Your_ war, not mine. I’m not interested in leading a fucking army. Or didn’t you get that the first time around?” Sam’s voice had dropped to a low growl and Padmé at Dean’s side dropped to her belly.

“If you’d read the whole book you pulled these scraps from you’d realize you might not have much of a choice.”

Meg’s voice broke the stare down between Sam and Ruby as everyone turned to look at her. She’d found Sam’s stack of notes and started flipping through them while Dean was distracted with the face off. She was frowning as she perused each handwritten page.

“I’d _love_ to know where you found this. All of the books this came from roaming around topside should have been destroyed. Apparently someone got sloppy.” She looked up. “My point still remains. If you’d _read_ the _whole_ thing we could totally skip this scene.”

Sam’s brow creased but Dean was the one to ask, “What the hell are you talking about?”

Meg looked at him and her frown morphed into a patronizing smile. “Dean, Dean, Dean. You’re not that stupid no matter how you play it. Who do you think the army Sam doesn’t wanna lead was meant to fight _against_?”

Dean blinked, realizing he’d never really considered the question in depth. He’d mostly assumed it was some infighting among the demons. Now he _was_ considering it, it didn’t seem to fit. Especially when the phrase Lucifer’s heir was being thrown around.

He looked at Sam the same moment Sam looked at him, eyes widening before he looked back to Meg in incredulous disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

Meg gave a derisive snort. “Very serious. You really think my father would have been involved so intimately otherwise? He was nothing if not loyal to Lucifer.” Her expression soured a little. “To a fault. All of this was done for the first Fallen angel himself. Takes two sides to fight a war and just because Sam here doesn’t wanna pick up arms doesn’t mean Heaven is just gonna to take a pass.”

Ruby glared at Meg and Dean once more got the distinct feeling the two demons weren’t even close to besties. But instead of snarking at Meg, she glanced at Sam with a challenging look.

“Did _that_ get your attention?”


	11. Chapter 11

After a moment of stunned silence, Sam summarily kicked both demons out and told them to come back in an hour. Neither of the brothers was ready to deal with the implications of war between Heaven and Hell before at least coffee. His voice had been chilled enough not even Ruby had argued.

Sanguis was sitting outside the door when it opened and served to encourage both demons to acquiesce to Sam’s will. Ruby tossed an irritated look at Sam over her shoulder as she exited. Meg actually gave the Hound a smile and finger wave as she passed. Sanguis had looked faintly amused under the brooding protectiveness.

It disturbed Sam a little that Sanguis seemed to like her more than Ruby.

Sam and Dean had gotten washed up and dressed in silence. There was a part of Sam, the smart ass little brother part, who wanted to look at Dean, remind him of the past conversation about the possible existence of angels and say ‘I told you so.’ He didn’t, mostly because it was outweighed by the rest of him wondering what the fuck they had gotten dragged into.

Dean left to get coffee and had returned with Meg and Ruby in tow. He didn’t look happy about it, but he didn’t try to keep them out. Padmé had moved closer to the three young Hounds who tensed when the two demons returned. Sanguis followed them in before Dean could shut the door. She and Dean exchanged one long look before he’d huffed, muttering something under his breath Sam couldn’t catch. Sanguis seemed smug as she planted herself by the door like a sentry, eyes on Meg and Ruby. Warning but not overtly threatening.

Sam didn’t even bother to wonder how the owner of the motel was going to feel when he discovered the singed spots all over the room from the two Hounds. Nothing was actually burning or in flames and he figured that was all he could really ask for. Sam suspected the Hounds had more control over the flames that wreathed their bodies than one would expect. And that they burned far hotter in their native landscape.

Leashed animosity crackled between Meg and Ruby. He hadn’t been aware they knew each other. From what he could pick up, they not only knew each other well, they had a history. That they were both here and trying to be civil lent more credence to their claim to be trying to help. The one thing he’d noticed that seemed to be consistent among demons was a certain amount of self-interest.

He wasn’t fond of Meg and the list of reasons was considerable. Her taking his body for a joy ride was just the top number one. He didn’t kick her out for two reasons. Azazel had been her father (however that worked with demons) and she was older than Ruby was. He wasn’t sure how he knew but he knew it nonetheless. Which meant it was possible she knew things Ruby didn’t. Between the two of them he _hoped_ they would get a straight story.

He also wasn’t holding his breath.

“So, are you going to just stand there and be all brooding and angry?” Meg dropped onto one of the beds, seeming unconcerned by the lingering hostility in the air. That was consistent enough even if the meat suit she was wearing was new. “Not that brooding and angry doesn’t suit you, Sam, but it doesn’t really solve any problems. If I know you,” and she paused to give him a smug, knowing look that only reminded him forcefully she’d possessed him once, “you have all kinds of questions crawling through that brain of yours.” Her smile was again insinuating and speculative as she glanced at his brother.

Sam didn’t care how insinuating she got. His relationship with Dean wasn’t up for discussion. He leaned against the table, ignoring the cooling coffee as Dean stood next to him. Ruby didn’t sit. She stayed on the other side of the room and paced.

“Why don’t we start with why, exactly, Hell and Heaven are at war and then lead into why I’m supposed to be the one leading the charge? We can get to the rest in a minute.” He thought he sounded calm and reasonable under the circumstances.

Meg snorted softly as she leaned forward to brace an arm on her knees and her chin on her fist. “C’mon, Sam. I know how much you read. Why do you want to get into all the ancient history?”

“I also know not everything is as accurate as I might like it to be and I want to hear it from your side.” Meg was right, he did read: lore books, history books, various religious texts. Some because the job required it, some because he was simply fascinated by learning. None of it, as far as he knew, was told from Hell’s perspective. “Besides, you can hardly hope to stop a war if you don’t know how it started in the first place.”

Ruby’s pacing stumbled to a stop at his words and she looked at Sam incredulously. Meg, ironically, didn’t look at all surprised. She seemed to have a better handle on Sam than Ruby did. It made Sam wonder whether it had to do with her having been in his body and brain or if she’d spent more time watching him over the years. She _was_ Azazel’s daughter and he didn’t believe in coincidence.

Meg looked back at Sam. “You don’t need to know the whole history, Sam. But this part might interest you. When Lucifer fell, some of the angels fell with him. When he decided to take over Hell they followed and it corrupted their Grace. It changed them and they became demons. The very _first_ demons. Some became Princes of Hell under Lucifer. Azazel, my father, was one of those. Lilith is called the first because she was the first Lucifer had a direct hand in creating after he claimed Hell as his own. The first who hadn’t once been an angel. Everything my father did was to further Lucifer’s cause. The demon blood you have because he bled in your mouth? Tainted with corrupt angelic Grace.” She gazed at him shrewdly. “I think that’s more of what’s concerning you than the whole war thing.”

Sam frowned. Meg was right. Her words snagged his attention more immediately than the whole war thing. He glanced at Dean to find his brother was staring back at him. Dean’s look clearly was skeptical and seemed to be asking whether they could really believe her. Sam raised an eyebrow as if to ask what she would gain from lying. Dean rolled his eyes and softly snorted in wary agreement and they both turned back to Meg.

“No one, and I do mean no one, counted on this.” Meg made a gesture at them. “For one, soulmates are so rare who’d have seen it coming? It was supposed to be just Sam winning Dad’s big game and stepping up to the plate. Except he was too nice for his own good and got killed dead instead of doing the killing. Dean’s oh so noble sacrifice had so many demons salivating it was unreal.” She side-eyed Ruby. “And Ruby still isn’t telling the whole truth, are you now?” Her smile was malicious though her tone was syrupy sweet.

Ruby narrowed her eyes at Meg and one hand reached reflexively for the demon killing knife she always carried. Sam didn’t even hesitate. He stretched out one hand and the knife pulled free of its sheath on her leg and flew across the room to land in his hand. Ruby looked startled, turning her wide eyes on him as he gripped the hilt.

“After we finish talking, if the two of you wanna go and try to kill each other, be my guest.” The room temp dropped and his eyes narrowed, the gold bleeding back into the hazel and overtaking it. “Explain what she means. Now.” And if he didn’t like what he heard, the knife in his hand would find a new home buried in Ruby’s skull. Something implied in his look.

Ruby seemed reluctant to talk, unspoken threat or not. After another glance at Meg, she crossed her arms over her chest and said, “I _used_ to be loyal to Lilith. I was _originally_ supposed to spy on you and report back to her. Lilith wants Lucifer back on the throne. It’s what she lives for. While Azazel was busy trying to find Lucifer’s successor, she was trying to find a way to break open Lucifer’s cage. And she found one. But eventually she needed Dean in Hell to make it work.”

The ice in Sam got more intense and he took a slow step forward, hand clenching tightly around the hilt of Ruby’s knife. Dean made no attempt to stop him. Ruby took an involuntary step back, fear flickering through her eyes. “I said I was _supposed_ to spy on you for her! I didn’t say I actually _did_! She and Azazel have been working together since Lucifer was locked up but her plan to free Lucifer was complicated. It needed a specific individual to kick start it. They thought they had it when John made his deal. It didn’t work and they had to consider other options.”

Ruby paused, glancing at both Sam and Dean, trying to gauge if they were still listening. Neither brother was prepared to hear their father brought into this and it rattled them both enough to stay quiet. So she continued.

“She never would have had her chance if you hadn’t actually died in Cold Oak. When your soul appeared in Hell, Lilith knew then you were more likely Lucifer’s true heir than any other child Azazel had tainted. But until Dean made his deal both she and Azazel were hamstrung. They were both entirely too happy when Dean called that crossroads demon. Lilith never wanted you as dead as she let it be known, but she wanted to make sure you _believed_ she wanted you dead. You had to hate her enough to be willing to kill her.”

“She wanted Sam to be willing to kill her? How does that make any sense at all?” Dean’s snarl was vicious enough Padmé lifted her head and sat up, turning her gaze on the blonde demon with a soft growl. Ruby flinched. “And why should we trust a word you’re saying now, Ruby? You just admitted you started as a spy!”

Sam had to admit they were good questions but he was quietly reeling over the casually flung out tidbit that he’d already been to Hell. He didn’t remember it, the time he’d been dead. But Ruby’s words reverberated through him. He didn’t believe she was lying. And that… was disturbing.

“Yeah, well so did Meg. And last I checked **I** hadn’t tried to _kill_ you. She did.” Ruby pointed at Sanguis, who hadn’t moved from her post but whose eyes had narrowed. “Notice how much they aren’t trying to kill either one of us. They know we don’t want you dead. You might not trust either one of us, but you trust them or you wouldn’t have even let them stick around. The demon you sent with the message for Lilith? He saw how fiercely they defended you both and trust me, it’s a fucking big deal. Hellhounds don’t switch their loyalty like that, and _those_ Hounds were trained by Lilith. If they decided they were following you it says way more than Lilith wants any demon to know.”

Sam looked at Sanguis. He’d wondered, at some point, if it had really been about him taming the Hounds or them choosing when he’d deliberately pulled on his power the first time. Sanguis returned his look and he could swear something like pride brightened her ember-red gaze before she turned back to the two demons.

“Then what _do_ you want?” Dean sounded impatient. “Sam’s already said he doesn’t wanna fight your stupid war, no matter what anyone else seems to want or think. So why the fuck are you here?”

Meg laughed, actually laughed, and Dean glared at her. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it!” She swallowed down the amusement and tilted her head, gazing at him. “You’ve _heard_ of the Apocalypse, right? Lots of people dying? End of the whole damn world? That’s what this whole war thing is about.”

The amusement finally died in her eyes and she turned serious. “I’m all for a little bit of slaughter. Most demons are. But do you _really_ think **all** demons are lining up to _die_ while we watch the world get torn apart? Some of us happen to like the world as it is. Sam might not wanna lead the charge but Heaven has been patiently biding its time to pick up arms and destroy all Hellspawn and ‘cleanse’ the earth. They’ll try to push you into it every bit as hard as Lilith was trying to twist you into setting Lucifer free.”

Sam gazed at her suspiciously. “You’re Azazel’s daughter. Azazel was loyal to Lucifer. Why are _you_ against this?”

“My father is dead, thanks to yours truly over there. It’s given me some freedom I wouldn’t have had otherwise. I haven’t had to answer to anyone. I think I prefer it.” She gave Sam a bright grin. “I even kind of like you two. In a weird twisted sort of way I’d never admit to anyone else. The _point_ is I’m not keen on dying and I’ve never met Lucifer, not like my father did. I was following my father’s lead and his orders.” The grin sharpened. “Maybe I’ve hit my rebellious phase. Besides Sam, you of all people should know about disagreements between a father and their offspring no matter what kind of united front they show to outsiders.”

Ruby took a step forward. “You can’t escape the claim Hell has on you. Not now. The changes in you both are irreversible and I know you know it.” Her voice was low and intense. “You’re powerful but entirely untrained. You have no idea what you’re truly capable of.” Her gaze shifted to Dean. “What either of you is capable of.” She added it grudgingly but it was the first open acknowledgment she’d made of what was obvious to everyone in the room.

“Judging from the way your power has bled into and changed Dean every bit as much as it’s changing you, it can _only_ mean soul bonded soulmates. It also means Dean’s no longer suitable for her plans. You have effectively screwed things to, excuse the expression, Hell and gone. When Lilith finds out Dean isn’t even an option now, if she hasn’t already, pissed will be putting it mildly.”

Sam shook his head. “Why was it so damn important to have Dean in Hell? How did that play into her plan?” Dean’s deal had seemed less random and more calculated ever since he’d talked to and killed the crossroads demon. Especially the way Dean’s contract had changed hands and the way the crossroads demon had been unwilling to compromise. And Ruby having brought John up earlier… Sam wanted to know.

“Because,” Ruby said with exaggerated patience. “Lilith’s plan to free Lucifer hinged on breaking a number of seals on his cage. The first seal and the last had to be done specifically in order for it to work. The other seals could go however it was convenient, but those two had to be done right.”

“The thing with prophecies and the like,” Meg interjected, “is that they are simultaneously specific and vague. They tell you what might happen but they’re a little hazy on the when. And the who. Metaphors and all that. Like…” She flicked a glance towards the table and Sam’s stack of notes. “ _The heir to Lucifer’s Throne will be born of the Sons of Man and will carry great power, tainted by the blood of the Fallen. When he embraces the power of his blood, the taint within which links him irrevocably to the realm will consume his humanity to allow him to rule._ ”

Sam scowled as she spoke the words he’d read only days before and she shrugged a shoulder. “Notice it doesn’t exactly say what _kind_ of power? Or _how_ the blood is tainted? It took my father years to figure out the tainted blood part. And more years to figure out it meant psychic power. Inborn talent. His blood didn’t make any of you psychic. It just tainted the gifts you were born with and loosely tied you to him and Hell. Also took him years of failing to realize the _wrong_ kids went fucking nuts because they couldn’t handle the taint of his twisted Grace or the influence of Hell. But you, Sam, not only showed no signs of going bat shit crazy but you did a little dip and turn into Hell and came back none the worse for the wear.” She paused, her eyes shadowing briefly. “Pretty sure all of Hell felt the moment your soul both arrived and left.”

Sam slid a look to Dean whose jaw muscle was jumping. It was hard to keep thinking either of them were lying after coming across what John had written in his journal. Which had been in a house warded up against demons like Fort Knox. But it was more than the unasked for confirmation that had anger and pain swirling in his brother. Dean hadn’t ever said much about the hours between his death and return but Sam knew they were some of the worst hours Dean had endured. And Meg and Ruby were tossing it around like it was no big deal.

Meg’s expression cleared and settled on something more neutral. “There’s a reason the books were ordered destroyed and the only copies kept under lock and key, only to be seen by the chosen few who were utterly loyal. Because you _can_ fuck up a prophecy. Nothing is written in stone and immutable. Free will and all that.”

“It doesn’t mean they aren’t known.” Ruby cut her eyes at Meg, not terribly happy to have to share the spotlight. But she also seemed relieved not to be doing all the work of trying to convince the Winchesters on her own. “And some of the lower level loyalists take the words as gospel truth. In regards to the seals only two are mentioned specifically. _And it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell. As he breaks, so shall it break._ ” Her gaze settled on Dean for a long moment, who shifted uneasily under her eyes before she looked at Sam.

“ _And it is written that the first demon shall be the last seal._ That’s why you had to hate her enough to be willing to kill her, Sam. Her dying after the seals were broken would free Lucifer.” Sam felt the blood drain from his face at her words. Looked to Dean who appeared every bit as stricken.

“She had you both right on the path she wanted you on.” Ruby studied them both, her eyes unreadable. “Until someone kept Dean from being collected. And now? With your powers and ability bleeding into and changing him? He’s useless for her purposes now. So trust me, Sam. Pissed won’t even come close to describing her mood. You **can** kill Lilith. You might be the **only** one who can kill her.  But if you’re going to, you need to be damn sure you can win before you face her. You won’t get a second chance.”


	12. Chapter 12

Dean watched his brother drop into a chair, Ruby’s knife thunking on the table. He understood how Sam was feeling. Information overload. Or maybe it was more the implications behind it all. He was having some trouble wrapping his brain around all of it, to be honest.

He rubbed at his temple, trying to ignore a headache building. “Just so we’re clear. If Sam kills Lilith now, it won’t free anything, right?”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “It won’t free Lucifer from his cage, no. First seal still unbroken. Her death would just be a death. Why do you think she’s been damn careful about where and when she’s seen?”

Dean nodded once. “So… Lilith dying is still on the list.” He wasn’t even going to pretend he wouldn’t have been seriously pissed if they had to remove that from the table. He wanted Lilith’s head on a silver platter in the worst way.

Meg shook her head and leaned back on the bed, braced on her arms. “Not a real big picture kinda guy, are you?”

“You know, _maybe_ if I had known about some of this shit for years,” Dean shot back, “I’d be game for dealing big picture. Considering you just dropped it on us both, I think it’s fair I’m not quite there.” Ruby and Meg weren’t the only ones who could throw attitude around.

“Well you better get on board real fast because there’s not going to be a whole lot of room for error now.” Ruby seemed to be recovering her composure. She gave Sam, who was still pale and quiet, a long hard look before she addressed her words to Dean. “The stronger he gets, you both get, the harder it’s gonna be to hide it from those looking for you. And killing Lilith is only a speed bump compared to everything else.”

Dean studied her. “What do you get out of this? Helping us, I mean. Because _you_ started out as a spy for Lilith and _Meg_ was working for her dad and both of those plans seemed to be along the lines of ‘free Lucifer’ and ‘wage war on Heaven’. All of this is just self-interest? You get to keep breathing?” He paused and his eyes turned mocking. “Sorry, _existing_. Don’t really _have_ to breathe, do you?”

“You can’t still think you’re so much better than we are,” Ruby said. “What, really, is the difference between us? Other than the whole having died and been tortured thing? Or has the fact that your eyes _glow_ now escaped you?”

“Stop it.”

Everyone looked at Sam when he spoke quietly. His voice was soft, almost mild, but power rolled through the room on those two words. Sam was staring fixedly at the pile of notes as he caressed the hilt of Ruby’s knife. It seemed entirely unconscious and made the hair on the back of Dean’s neck stand up. He wanted to kick the demons out and curl around his brother for a few moments and breathe. Try and calm the storm building in Sam before it broke. Violently and with casualties.

Sam’s fingers stilled and he looked at them each in turn. “If we’ve already screwed up the plan to let Lucifer out, we can figure out a way to keep a war from happening.” His voice was steady and even. Careful. “As Meg said, nothing is written in stone. I don’t _want_ to rule Hell and I don’t _want_ to lead an army, but I’m not going to sit on the sidelines and watch the world burn either.”

Sam’s eyes flicked to Dean’s briefly and Dean knew exactly what he was thinking. _As long as they were together._ And God help anyone who thought trying to pull them apart would get them what they wanted. They’d already proved once it just wasn’t that easy. More than once, actually.

“If there’s an alternative to war, we’ll find it.” He looked at Meg and Ruby both and Dean could feel it when Sam’s mood shifted to something darker, colder. “If there’s not then we’ll fight. _Our_ way.” The power in his voice shivered through Dean and a glance to Ruby and Meg showed they felt it too. It danced through the air and the Hounds all turned to look at Sam keenly.

The half-grown Hounds who had, up to now, been trying to make themselves as unobtrusive as possible behind Padmé made their way over to Sam. They were wary but they didn’t stop until all three of them were sitting close enough for Sam to reach out and touch. Dean watched his brother pet each of them without ever looking away from Meg and Ruby, watched as each Hound relaxed under Sam’s touch.

Meg and Ruby exchanged glances. Dean felt like there was significance in the way the young Hounds were now gazing raptly at Sam but he couldn’t fathom what. Or why it made Ruby and Meg both simultaneously tense up and look more resolved. But he was done with the two demons in their room for the moment.

“Whatever is gonna happen and whatever we’re gonna do, we’ll get it done. Right now? We need some space.” Dean’s voice was carefully neutral when he spoke, looking at the two demons. His gaze wasn’t openly hostile but it wasn’t friendly either. “And we need to know neither of you are playing both sides of the fence.”

Ruby made a face but didn’t say anything. Meg looked thoughtful before glancing to Sanguis and then Padmé. “You have five Hellhounds who have proven they mean to do what they can to keep you safe. Proven their loyalty to you both. Clearly you trust them. Let one of them stay with us.”

Ruby opened her mouth to protest and Meg glared at her. “You want them to trust us? Give a little. They didn’t even have to let us in the door but they did. It won’t kill you.” Dean wasn’t sure if Meg meant giving a little or the Hellhound wouldn’t kill but he had picked up Ruby didn’t seem fond of the Hounds.

If Dean hadn’t been willing to buy the whole possible war thing before, Meg and Ruby trying to cooperate when they clearly didn’t like each other made it more real. When enemies chose to work together it meant there was a much bigger bad to fight against.

Sam glanced at Sanguis. “Pick one.” It was all he said before he looked back at Ruby and Meg, eyes narrowed. They hadn’t shifted back to their normal hazel, still a molten gold. “You came to us. You play by _our_ rules.” Dean was glad he hadn’t mentioned Sam had been planning to try and track Ruby’s ass down.

“I’m trying to help, Sam. Otherwise I’d have taken my chances begging Lilith’s forgiveness.” Ruby didn’t look particularly happy but she sounded sincere.

“Seriously, what made you switch sides?” It was nagging at Dean and so far he hadn’t gotten a clear answer from either of them. He could buy self-interest to a point, but something in Ruby’s voice hinted at other reasons. If they were going to have to put up with each other, Dean wanted to know why.

Ruby was quiet long enough Dean thought she might be trying to avoid answering. Her eyes were thoughtful as she gazed at him before they flicked towards Sam briefly and she arched an eyebrow with a tilt of her head.

For a moment Dean had to fight down a growl and he shifted closer to Sam, his hand resting on his brother’s shoulder possessively. Ruby smirked and barked a harsh laugh.

“Not like that, idiot. I don’t want your brother.” Her eyes turned serious. “But Hell is not for the weak. The powerful rule. Power keeps you safe. Power gets you ahead. And he’s a better option than Lilith.”

Dean was surprised by the last, especially considering she had been treating them both like idiot children pretty much from day one.

Meg stood up and moved towards the door. “Take some time and digest. We’ll be around. Since you’ll have one of your Hounds tracking us, finding us will be easy.” Dean had the distinct feeling she knew way more about his and Sam’s connection to the Hounds than she was saying. She smiled brightly and gave a little wave before she opened the door and exited, leaving it open for Ruby to follow. Sanguis was almost on her heels, following her out.

Ruby was still gazing at Sam. Or more precisely she was staring at Dean’s hand still resting on Sam’s shoulder.  She gave Dean a hooded glance before saying, “I don’t suppose you wanna give me my knife back?”

Dean was tempted to say no just to be an ass but Sam picked up the blade and gave it one long look before holding it out, hilt first. Ruby came over, reaching for the hilt to take it from Sam, and froze as he caught her gaze with his own.

“Double cross us and I will bury this blade in your chest.” The words were soft and lethal and Ruby swallowed hard before she nodded. Sam released his grip on the blade and she sheathed it. She gave them both one more long, considering look and left without a word, closing the door behind her.

“I didn’t think she was capable of not trying to have the last word.”

“Dean.” Sam’s voice was tired and a little chiding.

Dean shrugged. “Like you weren’t thinking the same thing.”

“Well, yeah but you didn’t have to say it.” Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair before leaning back in the chair and gazing up at the ceiling. Dean finally dropped into the other chair with a sigh. He didn’t bother to ask which Hound was going to be sticking to the two demons who had just left. He could feel them just as well as Sam could, had known which one Sanguis would choose. He sensed one of the three unnamed Hounds who had been guarding the outside easily pull away and start after Ruby and Meg.

“Still gotta call Bobby.” Sam didn’t pull his gaze away from the ceiling as he spoke. And though the words were a statement they sounded more like a question. And Dean knew why.

How were they going to begin to explain all of this? Bobby had been spooked enough as it was when they’d stopped in last time. The older hunter might have been understanding about the nature of their relationship but Dean wasn’t sure he’d be as accepting of all the rest.

“I know. I know.” Dean ran a hand down his face. “We should at least sort out _what_ we’re gonna tell him.” He watched Sam shift his eyes from the ceiling back to his stack of notes, eyes turning thoughtful. They were only now settling back to their gold flecked hazel as he chewed on his lip.

“We need those books,” he said softly.

Dean shook his head as he looked at Sam. “She’s not going to be at all happy to see our faces again and even less about turning anything over to us.”

“Maybe not. I understand why she’s keeping all of that stuff under lock and key. But you heard what Meg and Ruby both said. This is bigger than both of us and it’s bigger than Karen and her paranoia. We need access to that collection of hers.”

“And what do we do about the warding? Not to mention the gun?”

Sam shrugged. “The warding can be managed and I’m not worried about the gun. I don’t wanna have to hurt her to get in and I definitely don’t think the whole collection should be let loose on the general public. But we need those books and we can’t leave them with her. Not now. If we don’t take them someone else will try as soon as they figure out they’re there and they won’t care if they have to kill her to get them.”

Dean frowned. “We haven’t told anyone but Bobby where we’ve been. Even if Ruby and Meg were gonna flip on us they don’t know where we found it.”

“Anyone can have information tortured out of them and not all demons are on our side.” Sam looked at Dean. “Not to mention, _they_ found us _here_. How do we know they haven’t been following us? The Hounds wouldn’t have reacted since they don’t seem to intend to hurt us, but it doesn’t mean they can’t retrace our steps and figure it out. And if they can, someone can get it from them.”

Okay, he had a point. “Remember when this was easy? Taking out werewolves and vamps and vengeful spirits? Hell, even a wendigo would be nice about now.”

Sam’s eyes flicked to Dean’s leg briefly and darkened. “Rules have changed. The whole damn game has changed. I doubt we get to do easy anymore.”

Frustration simmered in him and Dean couldn’t help but feel the same. He’d mostly been content with being a hunter, had been much happier to have Sam back on board. Neither of them had counted on these developments and both of them would have preferred not to be caught up in them.

“First we talk to Bobby. Then we figure out how to approach Karen. For now, how about lunch? Because _I’m_ starving. I still need food, man.”

Sam rolled his eyes but smiled which was what Dean had been aiming for. Something to break the tension. The three half-grown Hounds who’d been quiet at Sam’s feet this whole time finally stirred, going over to Padmé who’d been watching the brothers. Her ember red eyes caught on Dean’s and he could see she still had a question in them. He sighed heavily.

“Fine, they can stay.” His voice was grudging but he could no more deny Padmé’s pleading eyes than he could Sam’s. “Why we need three more Hounds I don’t even know.”

Sam snorted a laugh as he pulled to his feet. “Dude, you are so whipped! By a Hellhound!”

“Shut-up,” Dean muttered, feeling his cheeks warm.

Padmé came over to nudge Dean playfully before herding the three young Hounds towards the door. They seemed considerably less uneasy than they had when she’d first brought them in though eager to escape the room. Sam let them out and Dean shook his head. “You know our life is crazy, right?” He also stood, grabbing his keys and his wallet before joining Sam at the door.

“I know. Believe me, I know.”

 


End file.
